


Without Struggle

by iconicprince



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Animal Death, Beverly Marsh Lives With Her Aunt, Bill Denbrough & Eddie Kaspbrak Are Best Friends, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Enemies to Lovers, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Oblivious Richie Tozier, Richie Tozier & Stanley Uris Are Best Friends, Richie Tozier Has ADHD, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Slow Burn, Supernatural Hunters, Trans Male Character, Trans Male Richie Tozier, Trans Richie Tozier, Werewolf Hunters, Werewolf Richie Tozier
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-22 18:42:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 30,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21306764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iconicprince/pseuds/iconicprince
Summary: Night made the woods seem foreboding when only hours prior had been welcoming and friendly. A grey wolf stood only several feet away. It’s lips were curled back in a snarl, ears flat against its head. The animal was massive, the same size as Richie, if not larger. It bowed its head and raised its shoulders, fur bristled. He was quickly pinned under the creature, and could see it’s teeth, shiny and malicious. Blood, his own, dripped from its muzzle onto his tattered shirt. He cried out when it bit down on his side. Hot tears trailed down his face as he thought of his friends and family. Would they mourn him? Would they even find his body? He wished he’d told them that he loved them. How much they meant. He’d never get to tell Eddie how he felt. The wolf tilted its head back and let out a long and sad howl. When it finished, there was a pause, as it waited for a response, but thankfully for Richie, none came. In confusion and relief, he watched as the creature took off back from where it had come.
Relationships: Beverly Marsh & Richie Tozier, Bill Denbrough & Eddie Kaspbrak, Bill Denbrough & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak & Beverly Marsh, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Minor Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh - Relationship, Minor Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon - Relationship, Richie Tozier & Stanley Uris
Comments: 62
Kudos: 168





	1. Despondent Teens and Emaciated Wolves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sky was no longer an orange hue, trading in warm tones for navy and black. The sun had certainly made its way past the horizon by now, and Richie took that as his cue to finally leave. He readjusted his glasses and started the trek through the woods.
> 
> He’d only walked several feet before he heard a twig snap in the brush beside him. In a moment of realization, he noticed the only thing he could hear were his own steps on the crunching leaves. It was just past sunset, yet no birds were singing, no crickets chirping. Even the trees had silenced, as though the forest itself were waiting in anticipation.

**October 28th, 1993**

**Richie**

After a long afternoon in the barrens, enjoying the cool weather and colorful trees, the losers club decided to head home. Richie waved at the retreating forms of his friends, and kicked a rock from the path that led to the road. He didn’t want to go home, not yet. He was still brimming with energy but had no outlet.

Sitting on a fallen tree, he stretched out his legs and looked up at the patches of light filtering through the forest canopy. The golden rays of sunset accentuated the warm hues of the autumn leaves. Snow would soon cover the ground, and wouldn’t leave until the next spring, so he allowed himself to soak up the few rays he could before the cold Maine winter took hold of Derry and its citizens.

He sighed, searching his pockets for his lighter, and with practiced elegance, brought a cigarette to life. He found himself slowly relaxing, the rhythm of his breathing and the nicotine entering his system working in tandem to reduce his anxieties. The boy seldom allowed himself to be quiet, his thoughts too great and loud for his head. On occasion though, he would find himself able to calm his mind, typically with some form of narcotic assistance. He assumed this must be how normal people function, and why his mouth always seemed to get him into trouble.

A bird loudly screeching interrupted his reverie. He frustratedly stood, watching above for any indication of what the cause for commotion was, but the only sign of disturbance was a singular leaf fluttering to the ground. The sky was no longer an orange hue, trading in warm tones for navy and black. The sun had certainly made its way past the horizon by now, and Richie took that as his cue to finally leave. He readjusted his glasses and started the trek through the woods.

He’d only walked several feet before he heard a twig snap in the brush beside him. In a moment of realization, he noticed the only thing he could hear were his own steps on the crunching leaves. It was just past sunset, yet no birds were singing, no crickets chirping. Even the trees had silenced, as though the forest itself were waiting in anticipation. This sudden awareness of the abnormal quiet crept up Richie’s back and settled in his throat. He tried to swallow down the discomfort, but it was stuck.

Letting his paranoia win, he began to walk faster, willing himself out of the forest; if he wished hard enough, maybe the road would suddenly appear before him, even though he was still half a mile out. Night made the woods seem foreboding when only hours prior had been welcoming and friendly. His mind began to race, scenarios filling every empty space in his brain until he was shaking from panic. He was brought out of his thoughts when the trees around him shook with a growl. Richie slowly turned to find the source of the sound, but when he met the golden eyes of the beast, his blood ran cold. 

A grey wolf stood only several feet away. It’s lips were curled back in a snarl, ears flat against its head. The animal was massive, the same size as Richie, if not larger. It bowed its head and raised its shoulders, fur bristled. Time passed slowly, and neither moved. The creature was thin, all of its ribs stuck out, even through the thick coat of fur. Every aspect of the wolf highlighted its hunger. He knew humans were rarely ever prey to wolves, but this one seemed desperate enough.

The creature pounced, and before Richie could think, he was running. Adrenaline rushed through his system, propelling him forward in an attempt to survive. He barely registered the pain that bloomed in his left calf, continuing forward into a thicker patch of the barrens. Branches scratched his face and hands, and he kept tripping on stray rocks and felled limbs. Another bite at his leg caused him to fully tumble, his hands coming up to protect his face. He scrambled to get back up but stumbled, landing on his back.

Richie was quickly pinned under the creature, and he could see it’s teeth, shiny and malicious. Blood, his own, dripped from its muzzle onto his tattered shirt. He pushed the wolf, but it didn’t move. He struggled to get away, but he was too weak to escape the beast.

He cried out when it bit down on his side. Hot tears trailed down his face as he thought of his friends and family. Would they mourn him? Would they even find his body? If they did, would he even be recognizable? He let out a quiet sob at the thought of one of his friends coming across his remains, bones strewn about. He could clearly see all of his friends’ faces. He wished he’d told them that he loved them. How much they meant. He’d never get to tell Eddie how he felt.

He was so lost in his thoughts, he almost didn’t notice when the creature had released his flesh from its jaws. Though his vision was blurred with tears, he could see it move. The wolf tilted its head back and let out a long and sad howl. When it finished, there was a pause, as it waited for a response, but thankfully for Richie, none came. The wolf sniffed at the air, then Richie, and suddenly shrunk back. In confusion and relief, he watched as the creature took off back from where it had come.

Not wasting the opportunity, he got back up and ran until he came upon one of Derry’s many backroads. He quickly stumbled onto his bike, taking a shuddering breath before getting on. Tears continued to slip off his cheeks, the thrill of survival mingling with the remainder of his terror. The pain barely registered as he peddled, clutching his side in a feeble attempt to slow the worst of the bleeding. 

At a fork in the road, he made the decision to go home. None of his injuries were  _ too  _ deep. He’d been through worse. He felt nauseous thinking about going to the hospital. Having to explain why he was out late where he was. The hospital staff not believing him. His parents’ disappointment. The financial problems they were already dealing with.

_ I can take care of this myself.  _ He convinced himself, taking the shortest route home.

Several minutes later he was in his driveway. He acknowledged that only his mother’s car was parked in the garage as he put his bike away and limped into his home. He immediately made his way to the upstairs bathroom, peeling off his bloodstained clothes and tossing them into the bathtub. He gingerly set his glasses on the sink, then stepped into the shower. He turned it on, and warmed himself up with the gentle spray. Using the mirror, he assessed his wounds. Scrapes and scratches covered his face and hands. Both of his calves were coated in blood. The water stung as he cleaned out the injuries. With the blood gone, they looked far less intimidating.

The bite on his right side was deep, though, and hadn’t slowed in bleeding. The water that ran past his feet was tinged pink, and he felt a small wave of nausea. He quickly rinsed his hair of grime, sweat, and blood, before getting out and drying off. The cabinet under the sink held a large first aid kit, complete with gauze, tape, and band-aids. In only minutes, all the major wounds were covered. He then turned back to the shower, scrubbing his clothing harshly to avoid staining. 

He deemed his work sufficient enough when his arms grew tired, and shut off the shower, then placed the sopping garments into his hamper. He put on a fresh set of pajamas, then slowly made his way downstairs to the laundry room. He dumped everything into the empty washer and started a quick cycle. He limped out to the kitchen and found a note on the counter that read

“Richie,

Out for dinner, leftovers in fridge

Mom xo”

He heated a helping of lasagna, and by the time he had finished, the washer loudly beeped. The clothes appeared unblemished, but his t-shirt was in tatters, so he put it in a plastic bag, then threw it away. Everything else went into the dryer. Then he turned off all the lights and carefully made his way back upstairs, collapsing into bed and falling asleep quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first fic I've written since I was in middle school, so bear with me as I get used to the format of AO3 and getting back into the process of creative writing. This is super self-indulgent and vaguely inspired by the tv version of Teen Wolf. The werewolf mythology is mostly my own take based on all the content I've absorbed over the years, and I'll thoroughly explain what's up with that in a future chapter. I'm aiming for a bi-monthly update schedule, since I know my workload will pick up significantly next semester, and I'd like to be somewhat consistent. I have nearly the entire story outlined, just need to sort out the ending. Sorry-not-sorry that this first chapter is almost entirely a character analysis of Richie, and that he doesn't interact with anyone. Next chapter will be full of them. I wanted to get into Richie's current headspace and mental-state before shit hits the fan for him, since this is a world where they all became friends, but Pennywise didn't happen. Where Would Richie be by his senior year? How would he be coping with his queerness, his neurodivergence, etc.  
Hope you liked it!


	2. Vehement Emotions and Moderate Deceit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edit: I added some stuff to this chapter because I had to change my outline. If you read this prior to december 1 ill just detail what i added in the end notes

**October 29th, 1993**

**Richie**

He woke with a start, his alarm ripping him from a deep sleep. He stretched his sore body, then got up and went to the bathroom. He was uncomfortably warm, and covered in a thin layer of sweat. He groaned, removing his clothes gingerly, then starting the shower. He removed the bandages carefully to keep the tape from ripping his skin and hair. He set his glasses on the sink, then stepped into the shower.

Not wanting to irritate his skin with soap or a washcloth, he used only his hand and the water to wash the dried blood from his injuries. When he brought his hand away, he found that there wasn't any indication of the wounds. He rubbed his eyes, then put his glasses back on. With the clarity of his prescription, it was even more obvious that nothing was there.

He stepped out of the shower and quickly toweled himself off. He assessed his body; he was completely healed. The bruise that had painted his back and left side from when he’d been cornered by Bowers last week was gone. Even his acne had made itself scarce. Looking closely, he could see faint marks where he’d been bitten on his right side, but everything else appeared flawless. His muscles still ached, but seemed to be slowly letting up while he marveled at his unblemished skin.

“Richie! You’re gonna be late!” his mother called from downstairs.

“I’ll be down in a minute!” he hollered back. His face grew hot from embarrassment at having stared at himself in the mirror for such a long time.

He hurried back to his room and picked out an outfit for the day. He wondered if last night had even happened, if he’d imagined the wolf. He didn’t have much evidence to prove anything _ had _ happened, and with his reputation, it wasn’t likely he’d be believed by anyone. 

I’m _ the boy who cried wolf. _He thought to himself, shouldering his backpack and tumbling downstairs. His mother was rushing around the kitchen, fully dressed but her hair still undone.

“Morning, sweetie, sleep well?”

“Yeah, I did.” He prepared himself a bowl of cereal while he pondered his recent sleeping habits. Often, he’d be awake well into the night, and only sleep for a couple hours, if at all. Last night though, he’d crashed immediately. 

_ Maybe I should get attacked by wild animals more often. _ He joked to himself. When he finished, he dumped his bowl into the sink, then left. Before shutting the door, he hollered out “Bye, Mom”.

Bill’s car was parked on the street. He could see that his friend was fiddling with the dial, trying to find something suitable to listen to. Richie grinned to himself, proud and ready to present his latest mixtape to Bill. Once he’d buckled himself in the passenger seat, he ripped open his backpack and offered the cassette to his friend. Bill’s eyes sparkled, his mouth curving into a smile.

“Richie’s Fave’s, nuh-number five,” He read, slotting the tape into the player. Bill had been going to a speech therapist for the last couple years, and his stutter was nearly gone. Only his friends would catch when he hovered on a syllable for a moment too long, or stumbled through a sentence quickly, trying to force the words out of his mouth.

A heavy guitar riff thundered through the speakers, Rush’s “Stick It Out” playing. Bill gently bopped his head while driving, Richie played air guitar and made silly faces. By the time they pulled into the high school parking lot, the two were laughing, Richie having headbanged particularly hard at a stop sign, his glasses askew.

They walked into the school, parting ways to attend their homerooms. The speaker system turned on and a student recited the pledge. During the announcements, some kind of interference screeched over the system. Richie clutched his ears, sensitive to the sound. The high-pitched ringing ended, but, looking around the classroom, he realized that no one else had been disturbed by the noise. He stared down at his desk, hiding his face from his peers.

His embarrassment was quickly forgotten, replaced by his anxieties about the previous night. He felt more fidgety than usual, dying for the bell to ring. He wanted to focus, the topics seemed intriguing, but his mind kept wandering. Whenever he closed his eyes he could see those teeth, clamping down on his weak form.

He could hear the obnoxious popping and chewing of gum. Looking up from his blank notes, he expected to see someone nearby making a show of annoyingly chomping on spearmint or bubblegum, but couldn’t locate the culprit. After a moment of searching, he realized no one in the room had gum. Why would they? It wasn’t allowed in class.

He shrugged it off.

By fourth period he was sweating, his body uncomfortably warm. He took off his sweater, tying it around his waist. The hallways were cooler than the stuffy classrooms, and he meandered until he reached the library. The large doors were propped open; even from several feet away, he could feel the stuffy air. 

He had no clue what he was looking for, but he wanted answers. Ben was sitting in a bean-bag chair, his curious eyes scanning through a large book about Maine’s wildlife.

“Haystack, what’s up?”

“Morning. I’m good.” Ben slowly looked up from his book, slight confusion on his face. “Why are you in the library?”

“What? Can’t a guy be a Trashmouth _ and _intelligent?” Richie kneeled down to be eye-level with his friend. 

Ben shrugged.

“I’m just doing a little…_ personal _ research” Richie looked away, scanning the shelves.

“Oh, that’s not, like, _ code _ for something, is it?” Ben eyed Richie suspiciously.

“Ben, I'm hurt!” He put on a Voice, throwing himself to the ground with a hand on his forehead. “I actually want to look up some stuff, I’m just not sure where to look.”

“Oh! Do you want some help?” Ben stood quickly, now looking eager.

“Yes,” Richie admitted, getting up as well. “I wanted to look into wolves.”

“Why wolves?” Ben cocked his head to the side.

“I dunno, they’re just, cool I guess,” Richie lied. 

“Ok,” Ben turned, walking confidently toward a group of shelves. Richie followed, hovering behind Ben whenever he stopped to examine the individual titles. “I’d start here. You could also look stuff up with one of the computers. Maybe get one of the librarians to help?” 

“Yeah, sure. Thanks, man.” The librarians hated Richie, they definitely wouldn’t help him.

Ben patted Richie’s arm, then left. One look at all the books in front of him made Richie groan.

_ This is gonna take _ forever _ . _

He pulled out several books that seemed promising, flipping through them quickly. 

** _Canis lupus and it’s subspecies are native to Europe, Asia, and North America. They are the largest of their genus and are highly social creatures._ **

_ This one was alone _ , Richie knew. _ Why was it alone? _

He flipped through, opening up to a new page.

** _Very few instances exist of non-rabid wolves attacking and killing people, due to their fear of humanity. _ **

_ Just my luck _.

He turned another several pages.

** _With large prey, the wolf will track and chase, aiming for the legs to weaken the animal. _ **

** _When the prey is approximately the same size, the wolf will bite the throat, killing its prey almost instantly._ **

_ Why didn’t it try to kill me? _

He put the book back.

The bell rang, and he shook off his nerves, ready for lunch.

In the cafeteria, students were happily chatting of Halloween plans. Richie and his friends were no exception, eating and laughing at their table during lunch. The conversation paused for a moment, and Stan took the opportunity to state an observation.

“You seem different,” he said to Richie, an apple in his hand.

“Yeah,” Richie let out an exaggerated sigh, then leaned back in his chair. “That’s what a good lay does Stanny-boy, you should try it sometime.”

Stan blinked, then turned back to his apple. Richie knew from years of friendship that it was Stan’s way of saying ‘I know you’re hiding something, but I’m not going to bring it up in front of everyone else.’ Or maybe Richie was reading too much into his friends’ nonverbals.

After a moment, Bev spoke, “Mike told me that his grandfather is letting us use the loft for Halloween.”

A round of cheers broke out from the five boys, which caught the attention of the lunch monitor, who glared in their direction until they quieted to their usual volume.

“Should we bring anything? Snacks, blankets?” Eddie questioned.

“He didn’t say, if you want to you can,” Beverly then got up to dispose of her tray. A glance at the clock revealed only several minutes remained. 

Richie had spent so much time talking, he’d barely touched his meal. He finished the rest of his sandwich in two large bites, then shoveled pudding into his mouth. Eddie was making gagging noises from the other end of the table, making a show of how disgusting he found both the cafeteria food and Richie’s eating habits. It was nearly a daily occurrence, almost a routine, similar to everything else the two boys did when regarding each other.

Richie does something. Eddie complains. Richie says something in defence. Eddie pouts. There was comfort in their little act, as if they were secretly always performing for an audience, which, when it came to the other losers, sometimes were. But it persisted even when the two were completely alone, they couldn’t stop, couldn’t put their guard down, even for each other.

“That’s disgusting,” Eddie grimaced.

“Your mom doesn’t think so,” Richie said, his mouth full. Everyone at the table cringed to a degree, used to Richie’s antics, but still finding his comments distasteful.

The bell rang, and the entire lunch room erupted with the sound of teenagers gathering their things and saying goodbyes before hurrying off to class. Richie and Eddie paired up, having English 12 together. Their teacher was an older man with a southern drawl that tended to speak more to the board than the class. Richie didn’t mind, he could teach himself most of the material from the books alone. Eddie struggled with the teacher’s lack of teaching though, and often would ask for Richie’s help to understand. This led to both boys not really paying attention in class by the second week of school. Their desks were pushed together in groups of four, and the two often would doodle silly things in their notebooks for each other. Their two other group members didn’t seem to mind either, both semi-engrossed in the teacher’s monotonous droning of the importance of symbolism and how to interpret colorful descriptions of mundane objects in the most elegant fashion.

Today, the boys were in an intense battle of tic-tac-toe, Eddie ahead by two points. Both their notebooks were covered in small iterations of the game, typically a draw, with the occasional win to “X”, Richie, or “O”, Eddie. Another draw caused a quiet sigh to escape Eddie.

“This is getting kinda boring,” He whispered, glancing up at the board before pulling his notebook back to his desk and copying what the teacher had written on the board.

“Woah Spaghetti, I’m _ more _ boring than Jung _ and _ Freud?” Richie feigned an offended expression.

“Nah, just wanted to quit while I was winning,” Eddie quipped, a small grin on his face.

“If anyone would like to review the material, I will be available to help after school today and Monday,” Their teacher then turned to pass out papers with practice questions for their upcoming test on the collective unconscious. Everyone shoved their materials into their bags, and moments later, the bell rang.

Eddie brushed up against Richie on their way out of the classroom, the doorway barely allowing them both to fit through at the same time. Richie held his breath, his heart beating loudly in his chest.

“See ya later, Eds,” Richie called as they parted in the hallway. 

He headed to his study hall classroom to sign in with the staff member, but noticed there was a substitute. A particularly grumpy older woman with a frumpy green dress and a permanent scowl sat at the front of the nearly-empty classroom with a clipboard clasped in her chubby hands.

“Name?” the woman questioned without glancing up.

“Tozier,” Richie said before turning to leave. A cough left the woman.

“Excuse me, young man, where do you think you’re going?” She questioned, finally looking up.

“Oh, I was just gonna go to the art room ‘cause I have art next period. Wanted to finish up my project,” He lied. Usually Richie went out to smoke with Bev, _ then _ he would go to the art room.

The substitute’s glare grew harsh. “No one leaves study hall.”

“But I do it every-”

“I don’t _ care _ if the usual monitor lets you galavant about the school. You will stay here for the entire period.” She turned to the next student.

Richie wanted to argue, but knew it was a losing battle. With a huff, he slumped into a seat in the back of the classroom, away from everyone else, and stewed in his anger while pretending to work. He watched his knuckles turn white as he gripped a pencil. Without warning, it snapped. He stared at the splinters on his desk, surprised at his own strength. He shoved the pieces into his backpack and pulled out a new one, not wanting to be marked up for breaking something, even if it was something of his own. 

As the period dragged on, his frustration grew. By the time the bell rang, he was stewing with anger, directed at the bitter substitute and from nicotine withdrawal. He knew little would be completed during art, but hoped he could at least calm down before the day ended.

It wasn’t often he felt this angry. His skin was hot and his fingertips prickled. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth and his ears rang with every sound. Everything seemed to set him off as he maneuvered the school to the arts wing.

He took out his project and exhaled, trying to focus his attention. It was maddening, to not be in control. He felt like a child again. For several agonizingly long minutes he sat still, trying to get his breathing back to normal.

Someone opened the window and a breeze blew by, the scent of autumn now inside. It brought him out of his thoughts and instantly calmed him. Like the sun shining through heavy clouds, his anxieties parted and he settled into himself. He silently thanked that the school had messed up AC and Heating systems that caused this room to be so hot.

By the end of class, he’d actually completed his project and was able to hand it in. It was a charcoal still-life of a fake skull and plastic fruit. The art teacher smiled at him, quite proud of the improvements since the previous assignment, where Richie had paid far less attention and not put much effort into the project, resulting in a half-assed piece that didn’t mean anything.

Richie packed up his things and ran out of the building, waiting by the sidewalk for his friends. Ben arrived first, talking quickly about invasive species in Derry and some other stuff that Richie wasn’t quite paying attention to. Bill and Eddie came out next, followed by Stan and Bev. 

Bill took Ben and Bev in his car, and Stan took Eddie and Richie in his father’s car. Both vehicles moved south, away from the center of the town toward the wide open farms and fields. Half a mile from the Hanlon farm was a quaint diner that was almost always empty, perfect for a large group of teens to hang out at on a Friday afternoon.

Mike’s truck was in the parking lot when they arrived, and he’d sat at their usual corner booth. One of the waitresses was flirting with him. He looked relieved when everyone else walked in. 

Eddie and Richie childishly fought for the last booth seat, and the waitress left with everyone’s drink orders but theirs. Richie almost had himself completely sat when Eddie stopped pulling. Richie accidentally shoved Stan, who glared pointedly.

“Sorry,” Richie apologized sheepishly.

His victory wasn’t celebrated for long, because Eddie was suddenly in Richies lap.

“Uh…” Richie’s voice cracked, he cleared his throat and tried again. “Hey Eds, what… um… what are you doing?”

Eddie scoffed, as if his reason for suddenly forcing himself into Richie’s personal space was obvious. “You weren’t going to give up, and neither was I. So I compromised.”

“This is a compromise?” Richie’s voice was strained. All of his friends were staring at them. Even some of the other patrons and staff were watching.

Richie pushed Eddie off, then took one of the regular chairs, abdicating his prized booth seat. He was now in between Beverly and Ben, which could be awkward, but sitting next to Eddie after _ that _ would be far worse. Mike cleared his throat, and Richie silently thanked him for drawing attention away.

“My grandfather told me that we can use the hayloft on sunday, I already told Bev.”

Everyone nodded, varying responses of “Yeah, she told us today,” sprouting up from around the table.

“Okay, cool. I’m making snacks for us, by the way. You guys don’t need to bring anything,” Mike deliberately looked in Stan and Eddie’s direction, knowing their over-prepared nature would lead to them bombarding Mike with questions if he didn’t clarify every detail. Both nodded, keeping quiet.

The waitress came back with their drinks, then left again. She’d given waters to Eddie and Richie. Neither complained.

The group of seven happily chatted, talking about school and their home lives. Mike expressed fear in applying to college. He’d taken the necessary tests to qualify, but felt guilty about leaving behind his responsibilities at the farm.

Bill put a hand on Mike’s shoulder, “I know your family will be proud with whatever yuh-you choose to do with your l-life, Mikey.” A smile grew on Mike’s face.

“Thanks, Bill,” he replied softly. Everyone else chimed in with a similar phrase, encouragement making its way around the table.

Over the course of dinner, Ben, at Richie’s left, was fidgeting constantly. He’d hardly touched his food, a small salad.

Richie leaned toward Ben and raised an eyebrow. “Everything alright? You’re greener than those cucumbers,” He pointed toward the salad’s toppings for emphasis.

Ben looked up at Richie and nodded his head. “I’m fine, just thinkin’ about stuff is all.”

Richie knew he was lying. It was pretty obvious, but Ben wasn’t one to lie, so he let it go. He gave a strong pat to Ben’s shoulder and offered a smile, then turned back toward his burger.

Bill dropped him and Eddie off.

“Night, see ya!” He hollered, watching Bill drive away, then going inside. His parents were running around the house, clad in formal attire.

“Richie, honey, there you are,” His mother came over and reached up to place her hand on his shoulder. “Your father and I have a dinner party this evening, we’ll be out late again, sorry sweetie.”

Richie shrugged, “It’s alright mom, you and dad have fun.”

She pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you.”

His father stepped out of the laundry room, hair combed into place and suited up, but his tie was still undone and he was barefoot.

“Maggie, my socks still aren’t dry,” he looked nervous.

“Did you put them on the quick drying cycle?” She responded, mild aggravation in her tone.

His father went back into the laundry room without saying anything else.

“Jus’ put ‘em in the microwave, thas what I’d do, I tell ya!” Richie hollered toward his father, putting on one of his better voices.

He could feel the eyeroll his mother was performing from behind him.

“Mother-dear, would it be alright if I joined the fellas in a get-together day after ‘morrow? Tis all hallows eve, and we would like to celebrate the final harvest in a night of merriment.”

“You may! But only merriment, no shenanigans or funny business.” His father responded, waggling a finger towards Richie. He slipped on a pair of black loafers, then took his wife’s arm.

Richie saluted his father. “Yessir!”

Both his parents smiled, then left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the outline for this entire fic is finished and I'm working on typing up the next several chapters. Some of my buddies are helping me beta this which im super grateful for! (thanks jules n reese :3)
> 
> also it's really fun to implement some of my own music taste into Richie, cause yall Know he'd be listening to that grungy shit, which is what my sisters listened to growing up in the 90's and passed onto me. so many Pearl Jam sessions, it made me feel super cool as a four year old with two teenage sisters.
> 
> edit: I added in that Richie goes to the library to research what happened to him. Ben helps him find some books.


	3. Overwhelming Revelations and Infallible Moonlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The moon hovered far above Derry, having reached its peak in this sky. Its full light shone down upon the Earth, the pull impacting everything its light could reach. A boy of only seventeen years was truly feeling its effects for the first time, compelled to chase after the soft light. He ran, his heart leading him toward what he was now forced to crave. To hunt. Feast. Rest.
> 
> As he slept, he dreamt of large, gold eyes and hemlock trees. Purple petals, falling into a pool of water. A mirror, shiny and silver, splattered with drops of blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed the outline and had to edit some of the previous chapter but I summarized what I added in the notes. Sorry for the delay, I've been studying for Calc tests and then decided to change stuff around in my outline.

**Richie**

Alone in his room, he fished out his copy of Nirvana’s  _ In Utero.  _ Kurt Cobain’s voice flooded the house. He slid his socked feet across the hardwood floor and sung his best impression of the grungy crooning. 

He reached into his backpack, pulling out his work for the weekend. Several books he didn’t recognize were stuffed in the front. A sticky-note was on top of the stack in neat handwriting.

“Richie,

Here’s a couple books I found for you. Hope your  personal research goes well! 

Ben :)”

Richie smiled to himself. Ben went out of his way to help him with something  _ just because _ they were friends. His heart felt a little bit lighter than it had in awhile, reminding him just how much he was loved by his friends. He’d have to return the favor.

He sifted through the pile, thumbing through the books. They were all pretty similar though, information he was already aware of reemphasized. 

The last book didn’t seem very promising, either. It was small, green, and untitled. Instead of a dedication, there was poetic advice.

** _For those that need a guiding light, follow the moon._ ** _ _

He scoffed, unamused. 

The author’s name had been blacked out, which caused some unease to creep into his mind. 

With a deep breath, he turned the page.

** _Chapter 1: Lycanthropy_ **

** _The Lycan is elusive, only forced into showing its true form once a month. Symptoms of lycanthropy include nausea, dizziness, amnesia, restlessness, fever, heightened senses, enhanced healing and strength, and anger._ **

Lycanthropy. It sounded familiar.

** _If you or someone you know is a lycan, do not be afraid. The werewolf half does not change an individual, rather, it taps into something primal within the person for the duration of the full moon._ **

Werewolves. He adjusted his glasses to make sure he was reading correctly. He stared at the word, willing it to be something else, his mind changing the letters around. It stayed the same, almost mocking him.

** _They have enhanced healing and strength, which benefits them in both wolf and human forms. Otherwise they are normal people. The true origin of werewolves is unknown. Many attribute them to the greek myth of Lycaon, who was turned into a wolf by the god Zeus after trying to trick him into consuming human flesh. Others attribute lycanthropy to witchcraft, punishment in the form of a curse. Medieval Europe typically thought of lycans as humans who willingly chose their shape, pledging themselves to satan for the power. The modern world sees the werewolf as a sympathetic creature, a victim. While some embrace the thrill of hunting, most act similarly to wolf packs. They live in family units and teach their young to handle the pull of the moon._ **

** _There are no known cures._ **

_ What the fuck? _

His hands were trembling and the sound of his heart pounding blocked out all sound. 

He looked at himself in the mirror, observing the changes his body had gone through in only twenty four hours. Instead of his normally dark brown eyes, bright gold shone in their place. 

He started panicking, he couldn’t breathe. With the fear and confusion came anger, and with the anger came pain. His limbs felt like jelly and his head began to throb. 

The mirror showed a terrifying creature, sharp teeth poked out of his mouth. He yelped at the sight. Knowing what he was looking at was himself didn’t diminish his fear. 

He felt like a fire had been lit inside of him. His skin itched and his eyes ached. He clawed at his skin, trying to drive away the overwhelming discomfort. He tore off his clothes, his glasses clattering to the floor in his haste. He stumbled back, falling onto his bed. 

The sensations only worsened. Everything became too much. Too loud, too bright, and far too painful. He had to close his eyes. His body began to shake, and shortly after he blacked out.

_ The moon hovered far above Derry, having reached its peak in this sky. Its full light shone down upon the Earth, the pull impacting everything its light could reach. A boy of only seventeen years was truly feeling its effects for the first time, compelled to chase after the soft light. He ran, his heart leading him toward what he was now forced to crave. To hunt. Feast. Rest. _

_ As he slept, he dreamt of large, gold eyes and hemlock trees. Purple petals, falling into a pool of water. A mirror, shiny and silver, splattered with drops of blood.  _

**October 30th, 1993**

When Richie woke, he was shivering. He sat up. He was not in his bedroom Instead, he was laying on the ground, in the middle of a forest, naked. His stomach growled, and he felt the pain of starvation settle in his gut. His hands were sticky, covered in an all-too-familiar shade of burgundy that he didn’t want to think about.

_ What the fuck? How did I get here? Where are my clothes?  _ His mind raced with questions. 

He tried piecing together his memories from the night before.

_ I got home, I went to my room, I started reading. _

The word  _ Werewolf _ hit him abruptly, and he struggled to breathe.

He vaguely remembered panicking before blacking out.

Delicately, he stood up, supporting his weight on the trunk of a large tree. His body felt drained, sluggish. It was like he’d run a marathon. Richie hated running.

He vaguely recognized the patch of forest he was in as part of the barrens, south of the stream and somewhere between the kissing bridge and the Losers’ old hideout. Highly aware of his nudity, he stumbled through the underbrush toward the clubhouse. Several minutes later and he’d found the small clearing, free of underbrush. He searched through the leaves and dirt until he found the hidden entrance. It was slightly warmer inside of the underground room. He quickly searched the belongings stashed throughout the small space.

“Yes!” he croaked, his voice strangely hoarse, the way it would get after a concert or party from yelling. He had found some clothes that belonged to one of his friends, most likely left to dry after a swim in the quarry, but forgotten. They barely fit, the shorts were far too short and the shirt exposed part of his midriff. The socks wouldn’t even go on his feet, so he left them.

He then took the quickest route home, his bare feet and shorts getting him stares from onlookers. It couldn’t be after six, the sky was still dim. He tried his best to focus only on getting home. The front door was unlocked, and he crept into the house. He immediately went to the kitchen, quietly tearing into whatever he could find to satiate his ridiculous stomach. Just as he’d shoved a handful of chips into his mouth, a throat was loudly cleared. He turned toward the source of the sound, and saw his parents. Both appeared very distressed. His mother’s hair was unkempt, and his father had very visible dark circles under his eyes.

“Hi,” Richie tried feigning ignorance.

“Hi?” His mother repeated, voice shrill. “You’ve been gone  _ all night _ , your room is a disaster, and you show up like  _ that _ and all you have to say is  _ hi _ ?”

“I’m sorry about-” he was immediately interrupted.

“Whose clothes are you even wearing?” his mother questioned.

“Uh…” He looked down to see what he’d thrown on. “I don’t know?”

Wrong answer.

His mother began to weep. His father spoke.

“Richard, if you aren’t going to take this seriously, then go,” His father’s voice sounded unnatural, not used to a disciplinary tone. “I’m completely appalled by your behavior. We’ll discuss this later.”

Richie gave a curt nod, then went up to his room. His bed was turned over. The posters he’d carefully hung up were torn, deep slashes in his walls. Clothes littered the floor, but most surprisingly, his window was broken. He stooped to the ground, moving things from the floor until he uncovered his glasses. The mess looked far more disastrous with them on. He undressed from the borrowed clothes, wearing his own clean sweatpants and t-shirt. With mild difficulty, he righted his bed, then curled up on the tattered sheets. 

_ What the fuck?  _ He thought.  _ What the fuck is wrong with me? _ He allowed himself to wallow in pity for some time. 

When he couldn’t bear to listen to himself think anymore, he got up and began to tidy his room. The torn posters were disposed of, crumpled and thrown into the trash. All of his clothes were placed on his bed to be re-sorted and folded. 

When examining the window, he stepped on some glass that he hadn’t noticed on the floor.

“Shit,” he whispered to himself. He hobbled to the bathroom, using tweezers to remove the shards from his sensitive flesh. He ran a washcloth under the faucet and wiped away the excess blood. It took some searching to find a band-aid that would properly fit, but when he went to place it, he couldn’t find the wound.

_ I’m kinda like a superhero. I’m like the fucking Hulk!  _ He grinned, happy to have found some comfort in his predicament.

The phone rang. His mother’s voice drifted up from beneath him, and he strained to listen, walking into the hallway.

“Hello? He’s not available today.” A pause. “I’m sorry. He won’t be available tomorrow either.” There was a long stretch of silence. “Bill stopped by and told me about your party… ahem,  _ get-together.  _ Unless plans change, Richie won’t be able to attend. Good-bye, Eddie.”

The phone clicked when it was put back on the receiver.  _ Super grounded.  _ He thought with mild aggravation. It was comforting to know that his friends were checking up on him though.


	4. Domicile Sanitation and Paternal Discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back!! Here's Eddie's perspective for a change! This upcoming semester is gonna be really hard for me, so I'm writing as much as possible before things start next week and I have to struggle under six courses in order to be able to transfer to the only school in my state that offers the degree I want. I'll try to maintain a weekly update schedule, posting one chapter on Thursdays, since I have the next two chapters written, but unedited, and several after that outlined. I've got some other stories floating around in my head, but I'm not gonna start anything Big until this is completed.

**Eddie**

Eddie hung up the phone, confused as to why Richie hadn’t told him that he was unavailable this weekend. He frowned at the yellowing plastic of the receiver.

“Eddie-bear!” His mother suddenly called from the living room.

“Yes, ma?” He poked his head out from the kitchen.

“The back room is cluttered. Would you be a dear and help get rid of some of the old junk in there?” She smiled daintily. 

The back room was his father’s old office, where things would go when they didn’t know what to do with. Eddie wasn’t allowed in there.  _ Too much dust, think of your allergies.  _ He remembers his mother’s excuses. Now that she was too lazy to get rid of everything, suddenly he was allowed.

Knowing Richie wasn’t available, and that he’d see the rest of his friends tomorrow meant he’d be free all day. His curiosity regarding his father was enough incentive to spur him into rifling through boxes full of old items. He went to the supply closet in the hallway, getting himself a dust mask and several garbage bags.

He had two piles. Anything broken was thrown in the trash. Most of the contents were junk, held onto because of his mother’s nostalgia, or perhaps her inability to confront her late-husband's death. Sonia tended to grasp things just a bit too tightly, her fear of loss outweighing maintaining a healthy relationship.

The word  _ hoarder _ floated through his mind, and he shook his head vigorously, trying to rid himself of negativity, at least for now. Instead, he focused on the pile of records he’d stumbled across. He’d have to take them to the Tozier’s, who still owned a functioning record player. Whenever Richie got a new album, he’d invite Eddie over to join him in listening. Eddie didn’t always like the music, but he could appreciate the skill required to make the noise. There was some organization in the chaos, just like Richie.

He took a break around two for lunch, throwing together something resembling a meal. His mother was now fast asleep in her chair, a new episode of Frasier playing on the small television. The normally commanding voice of Kelsey Grammar was coming through softly, muffled by the compressed quality.

He quickly got back to work, now moving through the storage bins of clothes. He felt some level of sentiment going through his baby clothes, and held onto some of them. It felt weird getting rid of his parents’ clothing, but he knew his mom wouldn’t fit into any of the clothes she’d stored over the years. He couldn’t fit into most of his father’s old clothes, only saving a couple shirts that were slightly baggy, as well as a suit jacket and slacks that he could ask Bev to get taken in. She was getting pretty good with a sewing machine.

The room was nearly empty, stray items and appliances scattered on the sparse furniture. He thoroughly checked, making certain he hadn’t missed anything. In the corner, underneath a small chair was a cardboard box. It was labeled ‘Fragile. Do Not Open’.

Eddie carefully slid the box out from beneath the chair. Using a pair of scissors, he cut into the tape. The small box had a strange blend of contents. There were several books, none of which were in English and an engraved pocket knife with a wooden handle. There were also gardening supplies and handmade packets of seeds.

At the very bottom was a small leatherbound notebook. He flipped through it, full of drawings and entries. The earliest passages appeared to be in latin, but the cursive was scrawled so quickly that it  _ might _ be something else. The majority of the notebook was written in some eastern European language, while the most recent entries were in English.

While quickly flipping through the notebook, a letter fell out. The paper of the envelope was crinkled, a result of being stuffed in a box for years. On the front read his name,  _ Edward Kaspbrak. _

It was elegantly sealed, a symbol he didn’t recognize on the red wax. His hands shook. His stomach dropped and he felt colder. All other thoughts abandoned, he brought the entire box to his room and shut the door. He felt compelled to draw the blinds as well, and his room dimmed without the natural sunlight.

Feeling less exposed, he carefully opened the envelope, tearing into the paper delicately. He sat on his bed and opened up the letter.

_ Eddie, _

_ By the time you receive this letter, I will be long gone. Read quickly and carefully, this is vital to your survival, as well as the safety of Derry. When you have finished reading, you must immediately destroy this letter.  _

_ For centuries our family has sworn an oath to silently protect the human population from threats of preternatural origin. Derry and the surrounding area attracts unwanted entities at a greater rate than anywhere else in the world, and I fear that without assistance, it could be destroyed. _

_ There’s no way to put this other than that monsters are real, and you have to fight them. It’s in our blood. I wouldn’t ask this of you if I didn’t know you could do this. _

_ The journal I have left you is a Bestiary. It has been in our family for generations, and I trust you’ll protect it. It is a valuable resource in understanding what you must do.  _

_ I am so, so proud of you, son. _

_ Your father, Frank Kaspbrak _


	5. Familial Confrontations and Peer Apprehension

**Richie**

His parents called him down for dinner at six and they sat around the dining table like a family. Potatoes and carrots and meatloaf were passed around, then his parents were rushing through a prayer, then they were eating and Richie was _ so _ hungry but he couldn't eat. 

His dad refused to make eye-contact and his mother wouldn’t even look at him. He didn't know what happened, he didn’t know how to make things better. He couldn't exactly tell them he was a _werewolf_. He barely believed it himself.

Thirty minutes passed and Richie was still pushing around a sliced carrot on his full plate. His father cleared his throat.

Shit.

“Are you ready to tell us what happened last night?”

Right to the fucking point.

“I don’t _ know _what happened last night. I was in my room when I got this crazy headache and then I woke up out in the woods.”

They looked at him, then at each other. Trying to gauge if Richie was telling the truth.

They didn’t look convinced.

“We don’t tolerate lies in this household, Richard, do you understand?” His father’s voice was quiet, but his words carried the same weight if he’d yelled.

“But Dad, that is the truth! I-” He was suddenly overcome with that same wave of overwhelming pain and anger as the night before, and doubled over, clutching his side where the pain seemed to be radiating. From the bitemark, the only physical sign left from when he’d been attacked.

He tried to breathe, but suddenly he couldn’t. His lungs felt stuck, like someone had glued his throat shut and nothing could enter. His mind turned to Eddie, how he must feel during his asthma attacks.

Richie wished he had an inhaler for himself right now.

He was suddenly wrapped in a tight embrace. A hand on his chin brought his face up, and through his darkening vision, he could see his mother’s worried face. She tried to brush a tear that had begun rolling down his cheek, but he turned away.

“Im… gonna go to bed. Night.” He rushed up the stairs to his room, shutting the door quietly. As soon as he was in the privacy of his room he kicked his hamper, scattering clothes back over the floor. _ Fuck _ . _ What the fuck is wrong with me? _Another tear threatened to spill. 

_ I don’t deserve to cry _. He told himself, collapsing onto his bed. He buried his face in his pillow and fell into a restless sleep.

**October 31st, 1993**

His parents voices, hushed and nervous, roused him. 

“You saw him last night, that wasn’t fake. He was nearly crying, Went. I haven’t seen him cry since he was five,”

“That doesn’t excuse his behavior. And what the hell happened in his room? He says he blacked out and then, what? Sleepwalked half a mile after jumping out the window? He would have hurt himself. And all the doors were still locked, we checked. None of his story makes _ sense _ . There’s no explanation that _ would _ make sense.” His father’s voice wavered, and Richie felt guilty for causing his parents this much distress. His dad was always strong, always had a smile. 

_ They probably thought there’d been a break-in. They must have thought I’d been kidnapped or killed. _His anxieties picked up and he found it much harder to hear what his parents were saying. His thoughts were too loud for him to focus on listening.

There was a quiet knock on his bedroom door, so soft that he almost didn’t hear it.

“Go away,” He mumbled into his pillow.

The door creaked open anyway.

“Richie, your father and I were thinking that, maybe you _ could _ join your friends for tonight. I don’t know why you’d lie, and there isn’t any other explanation for what happened, so… we believe you sweetie.” There was a long pause while she waited for Richie’s reaction, but he stayed face-down on his bed, completely silent. “We’re also grateful with how thoroughly you cleaned your room.” She cleared her throat. “Mostly.”

Richie remembered the heap of unwashed clothes that now lay across the floor and groaned, annoyed at himself for taking out his emotions on a laundry basket.

He rolled onto his back and sat up, taking his glasses from his nightstand. When he made eye contact with his mom, they both understood what was needed.

She walked toward Richie, and gently hugged him. He reciprocated, allowing himself to be comforted and to provide comfort. He and his mother never really saw things the same way, leading to many arguments and straining their relationship. But right now, he knew that he could count on her, and that was all he really needed to start feeling better.

A glance at the clock told him it was past two, and that he only had an hour to be ready. With newfound excitement, he rushed around the house to prepare himself for the little party.

His father still looked apprehensive, so Richie tried what he was best at.

“Hey, Pops, dontcha worry. I’ll make sure I won’t eat _ any _ candy. No cavities for me, sir!” 

A smile crept onto his father’s face. Success.

A loud honk interrupted, and Richie ran to leave. He turned to say goodbye to his parents before climbing into the back of Stan’s mother’s minivan. Enough room to fit the five headed over to the Hanlon farm.

Bev and Ben were already in the car, dressed as a vampire and ninja turtle respectively. Now they just needed to stop at Eddie’s. 

Stan got out and rang the doorbell. The door opened, and Eddie walked out, dressed as a pirate. He whispered something to Bev before going to the back seat and buckling himself in. 

“Argh, ye scallawag, ne’er before I’d seen a dame as thine mother ” Richie grinned, turning to look at Eddie, who had crossed his arms and was pouting.

“I thought you weren’t coming.” Eddie said quietly.

“Change of plans, matey,” Richie pretending his hand was a hook, and jabbed it towards Eddie. He gently slapped at Richie’s hand, pushing him away enough to keep him from potentially being poked, but not enough to completely discourage the behavior.

“What are you even supposed to be?” Eddie asked, his head cocked to the side. It made his hair, which was purposefully unkempt, fall into his face.

“I’m a zombie lumberjack, duh!” Richie pulled out the props he’d picked up at a toy store, putting a fake arm up his sleeve and pretending to cut it off with a plastic axe. He then made various sounds to emphasize the amount of blood he had lost, mimicking gushing coming from the pretend severed limb.

A scoff could be heard from the driver’s seat, while Bev let out a small laugh and Ben smiled. Eddie seemed unimpressed. 

“Least I’m something _ cool _, Eds. Unlike mister safari up there,” he pointed his thumb behind him at Stan.

“I’m Steve Irwin, dumbass.”

Richie looked at the rearview mirror with an exaggerated face of confusion, waiting for Stan to make eye contact. When he did, Stan rolled his eyes.

“The Crocodile Hunter, Rich.”

“Oh! Crikey!” The minivan was filled with Richie’s terrible attempt at an Australian accent, not having used one much before.

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Stan said, loud enough for everyone to hear, but mostly for himself.

The road turned to dirt, and it wasn’t long before they all hopped out onto the Hanlon property, going to the farmhouse to help Mike and Bill transport the last of their party supplies into the barn.


	6. Affable Celebration and Crepuscular Introspection

**Richie**

Mr. Chips bounded outside, jumping and barking to greet everyone. Richie went over to pet him, but the dog backed up quickly, letting out a growl.

“Woah, hey boy. It’s just me.” He bent his knees and leaned forward, trying to make himself appear smaller and less intimidating.

Stan wore an amused expression. “You look the most like yourself out of us and yet he’s scared of  _ you _ .”

“Nah, we just haven’t seen each other in a while,” Richie reasoned. He held his hand out and Mr. Chips gave a hesitant sniff. He whined and licked Richie’s hand. “Yeah, see? It’s just me, buddy!”

The dog flopped onto the grass, exposing his underside. Richie kneeled, patting and rubbing the dog’s fluffy chest and stomach. Ben joined as well, both boys cooing at the large and pampered pup.

Mike hollered from the door and they all went into the home. Bev dragged Eddie away somewhere in the house, causing Richie to raise an eyebrow. He didn’t have long to think about it before blankets and warm plates of food were thrust into his arms. Bill, who was dressed as Batman, gave him a small smile and shoved Richie off to the barn.

The stairs up to the hayloft didn’t have a railing, and Richie carefully climbed the creaky wooden steps. He set everything down on one of the hay bales. Mike and Bill had dragged seven out to make a circle, and put one in the middle for all the food. Richie placed the tupperware containers and trays of baked treats onto the makeshift table and set out the blankets. Everyone else quickly joined him, Eddie and Bev in last. Mike had put the rest of his costume on, a homemade Jason from Friday the thirteenth.

“This can’t be safe, Mike. You should put _ something _ here to prevent us from falling,” Eddie complained, clutching Bev’s arm until he was far away from the edge.

_ Predictable. _ Richie rolled his eyes.

Eddie now had eyeliner and some fake wounds on his face and arms. Bev must have helped him with the application, since he’d never put makeup on before. 

“Those look cool, Eddie,” Ben commented, waving toward one of the scars on his arm.

“Thanks, I would’ve done them at home but my mom thinks temporary tattoos are toxic,” He trailed off.

Richie thought of a day in late Elementary school when Eddie had gotten in trouble because he’d drawn a smiley face on his arm in sharpie, trying to make him feel better after being picked last for dodgeball. Sonia had taken Eddie to the hospital, convinced he’d been poisoned from the ink. He’d come to school the next day, his skin rubbed raw, and didn’t talk to Richie for nearly a week.

He was roused from his reminiscence when the group moved to the circle of seats. They all removed their hats and masks, not wanting them to get in the way of eating or talking.

The hayloft grew cold quickly, much faster than the main floor of the barn. They’d already begun feeling some mild discomfort due to the late autumn weather.

Stan wrapped a blanket around himself, and the rest quickly followed suit. Richie reached for the one he was sitting on, but felt a tap on his shoulder and looked up. Eddie was looking away, gripping onto a corner of the red fabric.

“I don’t have one,” he said quietly.

“Sucks for you, Eds,” Richie began to gather up the material, trying to wrap himself up. Eddie didn’t give up easily though, and tug-of-war broke out.

Everyone turned to watch their bickering.

“Why don’t you two just share it? Us civilized individuals would like to get on with things.” Stan huffed from across the two.

“Because he’s a blanket fiend! He’d hog the whole thing and it wouldn’t even be like sharing then,” Eddie gave another yank, but the blanket hardly moved.

“Am not, you just don’t wanna cuddle,”

Eddie’s cheeks turned pink, and he pulled again, this time gaining some more of the blanket.

Richie didn’t really care that much. He was already warm in his flannel layers. He just wanted to argue with Eddie for arguments sake. Or maybe even get to sit right next to him, their hands clasped together at the front to hold the ends closed.

“Fine, Eds, you win.” He conceded to Eddie, like he almost always did. His competitive nature might start some of their arguments, but something about the way Eddie’s eyes lit up, or his genuine smile when he would succeed at something led Richie to drop nearly any problem between them, without fail. “It’s not even that cold, really. You guys are just pussies.”

He took off his jacket for emphasis, the cool air relaxing him. He plopped down onto his hay bale, stretching out his long limbs. Eddie was still holding the blanket out, eyeing Richie distrustfully before shrugging and sitting down as well.

Mike stood then, taking cling-wrap off of the homemade goods and dumping several bags of chips into some large bowls. Bill disappeared down the stairs for a moment, before returning with a cooler. They quickly dove into the food and drinks, eager to indulge themselves in Mike’s cooking.

The night flew by, silly jokes and scary stories easily exchanged. Richie found himself completely at ease, his fears melted away in the presence of his friends.

“It’s late, you kids should be getting home soon,” a voice called from below. Richie could see Mike’s grandfather at the bottom of the stairs, holding up an old lamp in his pajamas.

“Be down in a minute,” Mike hollered back, and they all started packing up.

In only ten minutes, the dishes were in the sink and everyone was standing outside of the minivan. They took turns pulling Mike into kind and crushing hugs, thanking him for the food.

“Shotgun!” Bev yelled, running around to the passenger seat. Richie and Eddie got in first, buckling themselves into the far back of the vehicle, while Bill and Ben took the middle seats.

Stan carefully maneuvered the country roads of Derry until he reached Bill’s house. He gave out gentle high-fives to everyone, then ran inside. 

“Say hi to Georgie for us if he’s still up!” Richie said through the open window, and Bill gave a quick wave before shutting the door.

Eddie was next, and Richie got out with him to take Bill’s seat. Before he could get back into the vehicle, he was wrapped in a tight hug by the shorter boy. Richie squeezed back. His heart hammered loudly in his chest, so much he feared that Eddie could feel it.

“Night, spaghetti,” He whispered into Eddie’s hair.

“Stop, Rich,” Eddie playfully shoved him off. “Goodnight.”

Everyone else said their goodbyes from inside the car. Richie got back in for the quick ride to his house, less than a minute’s drive from Eddie’s.

He hopped out, thanking Stan and blowing kisses to Ben and Bev. An empty bowl was sitting on the stoop. He took it inside, putting it in the sink. In the living room, his parents were watching an old horror movie.

“Hey, whatcha watchin’?” He slumped into the loveseat.

“We’ve been marathoning the old classics,” His mother pointed to a stack of VHS cases on the coffee table in front of her. “Wolf Man’s playing now.”

Richie looked up at the TV, where Lon Chaney Jr. was sitting in a chair, anxiously gripping his legs.

Richie felt his stomach twist. 

He tore his gaze away, staring blankly at his hands, positioned awkwardly on his lap.

A wolf's howl came through the speakers and he flinched.

He stood up quickly, panic overtaking his system.

“You two have fun,” He said, leaving the room to go to bed.

As he lay, he thought about Eddie. How tightly he’d been hugged. It had been a couple weeks since they’d last embraced, and Richie hadn’t realized how much he’d missed being held by his friend until today.

He tried not to let it bother him, it would only cause problems. He didn’t need any more.

He had to find out what was wrong with him. Fueled with determination, he quietly crept over to his desk, turning on the lamp and opening the small tome. He needed to understand what had happened to him. What was _ currently  _ happening to him.


	7. Skeptic Reservations and Grave Prattle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for talk of pet death by unnamed side characters

**November 1st, 1993**

**Eddie**

He woke with a start, flashes of fangs and claws still fading from his mind. His paranoia was fueled by glimpses of horror movies and comics that had been shared with him during sleepovers. He slowed his breathing, focusing on counting his breaths until they were normal. As the adrenaline rush faded, exhaustion and frustration took over.

_ Monsters aren’t real. _He thought, trying to rid himself of the irrational fear taking over his subconscious.

A layer of sweat clung to his skin, and he rushed to the bathroom to ready himself. He went about his quick but thorough routine that he’d perfected two years prior. Upon deeming himself presentable, he pulled on a pair of jeans and a red long-sleeved shirt that he’d set out the night before. Shouldering his backpack, he tumbled into the kitchen, racing around to get his breakfast ready. 

Eddie liked mornings, because his mother was still asleep for them. He could take his time getting ready and enjoyed the freedom that entailed. His cooking skills were improving, mostly with breakfast variations of eggs and potatoes, but he deemed it a victory against his mother’s iron fist nonetheless.

A glance at the clock told him he had another 20 minutes until homeroom began. He gathered up his dishes in the sink, quickly rinsing and drying them before pulling on his shoes and jacket.

A shiver ran through him when he touched the handle, a nagging feeling in the back of his mind. He’d forgotten something.

Racing back to his room, he quickly shuffled through the papers organized neatly on his desk. He ran through all the upcoming assignments he had, but couldn’t remember anything of importance being due today.

Then he noticed that the bottom left drawer was slightly ajar. Opening it further, he saw the box of his father’s items that he’d stowed there. He quickly snatched up the leather journal, then shoved the drawer closed and raced back outside.

He’d had to jog to be on time, but his homeroom teacher marked him as present. He took his time getting to first period, meandering casually through the hallways. Some students were gathered in small clusters along the walls. Most were idly chatting, passing the time. 

As Eddie neared a turn, he heard a group speaking quickly in whispers. He wouldn’t call himself a gossip, but he would admit finding some amount of pleasure in knowing his peers’ secrets, even if they were usually rooted in falsehoods. He stopped before the corner, trying to lean casually against the lockers. He strained his ears to listen.

“-and my dad said that mittens had run away, but when I took the trash out, she was in the bin. She looked like a mummy; she was all shriveled up! I knew it was her though because of her little paws. I-” The girl hiccupped. “I miss her so much.”

Several of her friends began to talk simultaneously, trying to console her.

Another voice spoke up, a bit louder than the rest. “I think… what happened to mittens happened to some of the pests that live on my street. Like, the old lady that lives half a block from my house that ran from her house screaming? There was a dead raccoon laying in her lawn, completely dried out. I also saw some dead squirrels in my backyard the other day? Near the woods.”

“This is some kind of Twilight Zone shit! What’s next? Someone goes missing?”

The warning bell rang, interrupting the conversation from continuing, but Eddie was intrigued. He pushed off the wall, righting himself and continuing his way to class.

Once seated, he waved to Ben, who sat two rows to his left. The boy waved back with a gentle smile. Their teacher announced a project, and the two instantly went to each other, knowing no one else would willingly pair up with either of them.

“Hey, what do you think we should focus on? Maybe micro versus macro economies… Derry’s influence on the rest of Maine and vice versa?” Eddie had no clue what to do, and was hoping Ben would think of something better.

“Hm? Oh, yeah that works.”

“Ok,” Eddie paused, looking over his friend. Ben had been getting quieter recently. He tried not to let himself get bent out of shape over his friend. Ben was probably just upset about something he felt was out of his control. “Are you alright?”

“I guess” Ben shrugged, his oversized t-shirt awkwardly wrinkling around his shoulders. Since junior year, he’d been losing weight at a much faster pace than could be considered healthy, but no one ever brought it up. 

Eddie was familiar with having problems with food, both psychologically and physically.

“If you need to talk, about _ anything _ , I’m all ears,” Eddie wasn’t used to being a shoulder to lean on with Ben, but he wanted to at least let his friend know that he noticed. That he _ cared. _

Ben’s eyes widened. “There is… _ something _ on my mind. But you have to promise not to tell anyone!” Ben grasped Eddie’s hands tightly, excitement and fear in his eyes.

“Promise,” Eddie said, using his forefinger to make an X on his chest.

Ben reached into his backpack, pulling out folders and a notebook.

“Some… _ weird _ things have been happening lately in Derry and the surrounding area.”

“Really?” Eddie tried to sound interested instead of nervous.

Ben flipped open the folder, pulling out several clippings from newspapers that dated back almost a month.

“Something’s up with the animals. They’re all… getting sick and dying in weird ways.”

Eddie straightened up, reminded of the conversation he’d eavesdropped on only minutes ago.”

Thinking optimistically, he offered the first thing that came to mind with sick animals.

“Rabies?”

“No, animal control told the papers that the tests have come back negative…” Ben frowned.

Eddie bit his lip, trying to find a reasonable explanation. 

“I can help! We can go to the library for lunch,” Eddie offered.

“Really? That would be a great help

Eddie pulled the folder onto his desk, reading over the articles and comparing them to Ben’s notes. There was a pattern to the behavior, all of the dead creatures were found in public areas, close to the barrens.

Their teacher cleared her throat from the front of the room, announcing for everyone to go to their assigned seats for the lesson.

Predictably, the period dragged. Law and Government wasn’t the most thrilling of topics, and Eddie already understood the majority of the material. The only thing he’d learned was that he was looking forward to vote.

When the bell rang, Eddie was out of the classroom. He rushed through the halls, getting into the locker room and changing into his gym clothes as fast as possible. Belch was in his class, and he didn’t want to test his luck.

“Morning,” Stan said, walking up to where Eddie was stretching.

“Hey,” He was too tired to give a proper greeting.

The dividers had been opened, making the gym twice its usual size. The girls’ class would most likely be involved in whatever activity was planned, and Eddie wanted to be prepared.

It all depended on what the sport would be. Some he sucked at, but a handful offered Eddie a chance.

Coach stepped out of his office, blowing loudly into his whistle. He threw a kickball like he was bowling, sending it toward a group of students near the center of the gym. “You know the rules! Line up!”

Several stragglers came out of the locker room, including Richie, who wandered over to Stan and Eddie. His shoulders were hunched over, his eyes barely open and accompanied with heavy bags.

Eddie looked at Stan, who had an eyebrow raised. Eddie shrugged in response. Both boys wanted to talk to Richie, but the division of teams had begun. 

Eddie ended up on the team opposing both Stan and Richie, who were standing near the back of the gym, away from any bases.

Of course, Belch elected himself to be pitcher, mercilessly chucking the red rubber ball. Eddie had ended up in the middle of the line, quietly waiting for his turn. A group of girls stood behind him, chattering about their crushes and boyfriends.

Enough people had struck out that he didn’t even get to run the bases. He meandered to an empty spot in the outfield near second base.

When it was Stan’s turn to kick, Eddie offered a reassuring smile. It didn’t help though, as he kicked it straight back into the arms of the pitcher on Eddie’s team.

“Out!”

Richie patted Stan’s shoulder as he moved to the back of the line.

Eddie didn’t bother watching, knowing Richie would either get out as well, or make his way lazily to first base.

He hadn’t expected the hollow thwack of the ball, or it soaring toward the back of the gym. He focused his attention on Richie, who was now running past first base.

Those in the far back were still floundering with the ball, and Richie, awkward, gangly, clumsy Richie, was sprinting in his ratty converse.

Eddie’s jaw had dropped, and Richie patted him on the shoulder as he passed, throwing him off balance. He quickly righted himself, watching his best friend effortlessly complete a home run.

He locked eyes with Stan, who’s expression mirrored Eddie’s. When Richie took his place at the back of the line, Stan said something, and Richie threw his head back in laughter. They began a quick back-and-forth while the game continued. Eddie wanted to watch, maybe catch some of what Richie was saying, but he didn’t want to get in trouble for letting the ball roll past him.

The rest of gym continued, with Richie’s newfound athleticism leading to his team dominating. Before Eddie could ask where this sudden burst of enthusiasm came from, Richie had disappeared.

Eddie redressed himself, shouldering his backpack and walking to his next class. He figured he could just talk to Richie during lunch- except he’d promised Ben he would go with him to the library. He still had English with Richie during sixth period.

The morning dragged out, anxiety making Eddie unable to focus. He didn’t care about the unit circle and how to calculate velocity. Much more interesting and dangerous things were happening.

When the bell finally rang for the end of fourth period, he shot up from his seat, speed-walking to the library. He sat down at an empty table and pulled out the journal. He ran his fingers gently over the leather, 

He barely noticed when Ben sat down across from him, quickly closing his notebook and looking up at his friend.

“Hey Eddie, what’s that?”

“I’m not quite sure? It’s my dad’s, he left it for me.”

“That’s cool. It must be important if he left it just for you.”

“Uh, yeah. I guess so.” Eddie put the book away, blinking rapidly to rid his eyes of tears. “Let’s get started.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its been over 3 weeks! Sorry!! I experienced some ridiculous writers block for this chapter, and had to rewrite it twice, after completing several essays I was assigned. Hopefully the next chapters will flow more smoothly, allowing me to keep on schedule. This is my outlet for writing, but I've been doing so much recently that I seem to be experiencing a bit of burnout. I'm taking honors sociology, and while writing about sociological theories is very fun and rewarding, it's also extremely taxing.
> 
> This is a bit off-topic but I applied for transfer to another college, which is very exciting and a bit nerve-wracking. If I get in, I'll be on the path to getting my bachelors in funeral services! I'm also currently emailing with a local funeral home about observing a director or mortician who works there, as well as inquiring about an internship and residency in the coming years!


	8. Inauspicious Mishaps and Visceral Evolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can’t I can’t I can’t played like a mantra in his head, his fears overflowing inside of him. Eddie was looking at him expectantly, and Richie quickly shook his head, trying to show with his eyes just how much he can’t talk about this. With Eddie. With anyone.
> 
> He watched Eddie’s face flip through several different emotions before ultimately nodding, leaving Richie alone with his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for graphic animal death

**Richie**

Pulling an all-nighter wasn’t the best idea, but the knowledge he’d gained made it almost worth the current exhaustion.

Stan’s interrogation during gym had been frustrating enough, and when he sensed Eddie in the locker room, he bolted. He felt some guilt for leaving his friends in the dark, but he didn’t want to lose the only people he cared about. They would all see him as a monster if they knew. 

He was no stranger to secrets, and the less people that knew, the better. The book provided enough examples of betrayal to keep Richie quiet about this until he died.

He quickly realized that classes were now more difficult to sit through. If he wasn’t focused enough, he could hear every heartbeat and breath in a classroom. Between the buzzing of the electricity and the horrid scents wafting from his peers, he could hardly concentrate on his lessons.

His skin was burning with all his pent-up emotions trying to release, and he nearly sprinted to the cafeteria when the bell rang. He arrived first to their table, settling himself down by closing his eyes and breathing deeply. He could sense someone approaching, and tried mentally preparing himself to act normal.

Bill sat down, and his easy-going smile helped relieve some of Richie’s anxiety. Bill was good. He could talk to him. Bill didn’t ask Richie questions the way Beverly and Stan and Eddie did. He and Bill engaged in small-talk, passing the time until everyone else arrived. But only Stan and Bev showed up. 

After fifteen minutes, Richie began to shift awkwardly in his seat.

“You guys know where Ben is?” Bev was leaning up over the table, scanning the room.

“Eddie mentioned he was going with him to the library,” Stan gently pulled Bev back into her seat.

“No treats from Mrs. K?” Richie whined. “How will I make it to three o’clock?”

“You’ll live,” Stan turned back to Bill.

Without thinking, Richie gave Stan a gentle shove. Or at least, that’s what he’d intended. Instead, Stan was on the floor, his lunchbox and it’s contents spilled across the room and under the table.

“Shit! Stan, I’m sorry, I-”

“It’s ok.” Stan’s voice was clipped. He stood, methodically gathering his lunch, then sat back down in his seat.

Richie stared at his best friend, unsure what to do.

He  _ could _ talk to Stan, try to explain what happened, or he could face Bev and Bill staring him down accusingly.

“I gotta go,” His voice was just above a whisper.

He jumped from his seat, quickly walking out of the room, gripping at his backpack straps.

He ducked into the teacher’s bathroom,  _ single stall _ .

“Dammit!” He threw his backpack onto the tile floor, gripping at his hair to try grounding himself. In the mirror, he saw his eyes flashing between their usual blue and the new, striking gold.

He focused on his reflection, willing himself to calm down and slow his racing heart. He took several deep breaths before a laugh bubbled out of his throat. The hysterical laughter quickly turned to sobs. He braced himself against the wall and slid down to the floor. He shoved his glasses up his face and harshly rubbed at his eyes.

_ I can’t do this.  _ The thought left Richie feeling hollow. He couldn’t trust his friends or parents. He couldn’t control himself. If he wasn’t careful, he could hurt someone. He’d already hurt Stan. He could hurt Eddie.

Gruesome visions of his friends, bloodied and mangled, harmed because of him intruded his thoughts. If he couldn’t control himself, then he’d have to distance himself for now. Just for a little while.

He made a new promise to himself then, sitting on the scuffed tile with his fists at his sides. 

He didn’t know how much time had passed, so he quickly tried to make himself presentable, hoping his glasses could hide some of the evidence left from crying. He picked up his backpack and shoved the door open with his side, walking to class with his head tilted down.

He let out a sigh of relief when he got to his seat and Eddie wasn't there. The bit of guilt he felt was outweighed by the potential embarrassment that would come from Eddie pestering him.

When the bell rang, Eddie arrived in a flurry, spitting out a quick “Sorry I’m late,” before plopping himself into his seat and ripping into his backpack. Richie nudged Eddie with his foot, mindful of the force he put into it.

“What were  _ you _ up to that made you almost late?” Richie whispered with an eyebrow raised suggestively.

“Shut up!” Eddie hissed back, flattening out his ruffled hair and pulling at his shirt. He was nearly too flustered to notice Richie’s current state, but after writing the date and chapter section on a new page of his notebook, he looked up at Richie. Eddie narrowed his eyes and quirked his head to the side.

“Have you been crying?” He mouthed to Richie, his eyes flitting over to other students, wary of eavesdroppers.

Richie shook his head, hoping if he ignored it, Eddie would drop it.

Eddie was undeterred, shoving a piece of paper onto Richie’s desk.

“Stop lying dipshit. What’s wrong?” was scribbled on the sheet in Eddie’s sloppy cursive.

Richie took time in giving a response, paying attention to each word he placed. “I’ve got a lot on my mind that I don’t want to talk about. I hurt Stan on accident at lunch and I’ve been feeling really off lately. I’m sorry :(“

He watched Eddie’s eyes wander over the sheet, his expression changing from neutral to his signature frown.

“Let’s talk, after class.” 

_ I can’t I can’t I can’t  _ played like a mantra in his head, his fears overflowing inside of him. Eddie’s looking at him expectantly, and Richie quickly shook his head, trying to show with his eyes just how much he  _ can’t _ talk about this. With Eddie. With _ anyone _ .

He watched Eddie’s face flip through several different emotions before ultimately nodding, leaving Richie alone with his thoughts for the rest of class.

Richie didn't speak with Eddie for the rest of the day, dodging his friends in the hallways. Everything was overwhelming. Toward the end of eighth period, he left class early, slipping out a side entrance and taking off into the wilderness behind the school.

He passed several wooden structures, built by former students and faculty that were now left to rot. When the forest began to thicken and he heard the sound of rushing water, he finally slowed down. Collapsing against a tree, he caught his breath and listened.

Underneath the sounds from the stream and singing of birds, he could hear the muffled squeaking from a family of mice hidden in their burrow, the heartbeats of the chipmunks in the branches above him. Miles off to his left he could hear the chewing of grass from a deer, and a coyote sniffing and tracking prey to his right.

In all his years spent playing in these woods, he had never noticed much animal activity. He and his friends were far too loud, making themselves known to all creatures in their vicinity.

The wind was against him, and he could smell  _ something _ lingering in the wind. Something inside of him was compelled to chase it. Who was he to deny his new instincts? 

He stripped down, shoving his clothes into his backpack and throwing the straps over a tall branch. He closed his eyes, willing himself to concentrate. He focused on what he wanted. When the pain began, he choked out a wail. He’d already experienced this pain, he could get used to it. His teeth were clenched and his hands were in tight fists. As he put more effort into changing, the greater the pain became, until everything whited out.

The first thing Richie noticed when he opened his eyes was that it was much darker. The second thing he noticed was that he was on the ground. Using his front limbs to balance, he righted himself. He was standing on all fours like a dog. Like a  _ wolf _ .

He sniffed the air, trying to latch onto  _ something _ familiar. That same scent that had called to him before was stronger now. He tried to take off after it, but found he was not familiar with his new limbs. He wobbled, placing one foot down, then the next. 

_ Front right, front left, back right, back left.  _ He began to count in sets of four, moving to a drum beat in his head.

He made several meters before he grew comfortable enough to try running. Turning around, he spotted his backpack up in the tree. His scent as a human left a strong enough trace that he’d be able to find his way back, or at least he hoped it would.

He circled the trees, visually marking the area so he would recognize it when he came back.

He looked up at his belongings one last time before taking off in a sprint. He concentrated on all the different sounds and smells surrounding him, but he was only chasing one. 

The trail led him away from town, out toward the farmland. He picked up on the enticing sheep from the Hanlon property, and the earthy notes from the upturned soil. 

The freedom he felt as the air whistled over and around him was unlike anything he’d ever felt before. For the first time in months, Richie felt truly and completely happy.

He  _ knew _ that he was only meters away from his prey, and slowed down. The wind picked up, and he found himself thankful that it was coming  _ towards _ him. Just beyond the bush he was crouched behind was a small clearing, an abandoned shack standing in the center. To the left of the shack, gently grazing on the overgrown weeds was a rabbit. He began salivating, to his own disgust. 

Before he could think about what he should do, he was leaping into action. The tiny creature was killed in his jaws mercifully, barely having time to panic as it’s life ended.

The guilt he felt as a man with no need to hunt fought the wolf instinct to feed at any opportunity. He tried to thoroughly consume the animal, mainly trying to avoid wasting it’s death. He watched several birds hover in the air above him, ready to pick at whatever he left behind.

He moved on, observing that the sun had moved enough for him to notice.  _ It had to be… four? Maybe five o’clock? _ He stumbled upon a creek, and drank some of the cool, clear water. His reflection startled him, he looked so different. His fur was mostly grey and light brown, mottled throughout with white and black. His face was caked in blood, but it was still wet, so he dunked himself into the water. He repeated the action with his front paws, then shook himself off.

He looked at himself again, admiring his reflection. He made faces at the creek, trying to familiarize himself with this new face that was his own. He mastered his puppy dog eyes by the time he left.

He found his clothes almost immediately, surprising himself with his ability to track his scent. Shifting back felt excruciating, and when he finally stood, realized it was almost night. He scrambled to get his clothes back on, mindful of his aching muscles.`His heart was still beating furiously, stuck on an adrenaline high from the physical and emotional rush.

The autumn air was chilly, but he didn’t feel the cold. He turned over all the questions in his mind while he walked home, more determined than ever to understand himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that the hunting scene with the rabbit is a bit graphic for some, but I wanted to show that Richie, though conscious, is not capable of fighting his instincts when shifted. Also I'm mentioning that Richie is a trans guy but he's closeted to everyone except his parents. I wasn't going to even bring it up, but I've been writing him that way this whole time and now I do want it to come up in the story. Werewolves are a huge allegory for trans men (as well as gay men), and I've been recently dealing with some more Gender Stuff so I'm Projecting. Sorry if that turns anyone away from the story, but I think it's important I mention it because it might help other transmasculine people and it's at least helping me, so I'd like to share that.
> 
> I wrestled a lot with this chapter, and then at the beginning of last month my brother had to go to the hospital for two weeks. I barely did any schoolwork during that time, let alone have the availability to write. He's home now and is much better, so no need to worry now! I have about a week left of school, so I should be able to keep up on this properly again.
> 
> BTW!! I have tons of plans for other stories, and I've got outlines written for a couple, so hopefully I can start working on those when I finish this up. I intend for this story to be completed by the end of summer break, so around mid august


	9. Occupied Sepulchre and Belated Lamentation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn’t too hard to find his father’s grave, centered in a neat row, just like everyone else buried there.
> 
> Francis Kaspbrak
> 
> Beloved Husband and Father
> 
> 1946-1982
> 
> Seeing the familiar letters carved into the headstone made tears spring in his eyes. He knelt down, placing his right hand atop the smooth granite.
> 
> “I miss you,” he whispered, holding himself back from crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for unaddressed grief, mentions of abuse, blood, gore,  
eddie compares his abuse to bev's and oversimplifies his experiences. and eddie Will soon come to realize that what he's experienced is abuse, and that his and bev's experiences are different, but more similar than he'd thought

**November 2nd, 1993**

**Eddie**

He had a plan, now. It wasn’t a very good one, but it was a start. He would investigate a small portion of the town each night from two to four in the morning. He’d found a map of the town and photo-copied it twice, once for him to thoroughly mark up, and the other to remain untouched. All of the locations he was made aware of by eavesdropping the other day and from the research he did with Ben. All of the incidents had occurred within a half-mile vicinity of the Derry Community Cemetery. 

He would start at the cemetery itself, then move outward, following the three by three grid clockwise. Each section was less than a tenth of a mile, meaning he could circle around once every 5 minutes.

Visibility was low, even with the streetlights, so he packed a flashlight and a headlamp, along with his first-aid kit, the journal, the pocket-knife, and a water bottle.

At a quarter to two, his alarm sounded. He quickly turned it off and sat in the dark, listening for sounds of his mother. Her snore was even and consistent. _ Good _ he thought as he slowly crawled out of bed and gathered up his things, pulling on a sweater and jeans, then snapping his favorite fanny pack into place.

The most difficult part would be making his way out the door. His room just _ had _to be the furthest from the entrance, while his mothers was the closest. The hallway floor was creaky, but years of sneaking around while trying to feed himself or escape being bed-ridden while “sick” had trained him well. He hugged the wall, where the wood was more settled, sliding his socked feet slowly.

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding when he passed his mother’s room. Once he stepped into the kitchen, he could move more freely. The front door was tricky, because it didn’t _ always _ creak, and there wasn’t a consistent reason when it did. He turned the lock, then the knob, and closed his eyes as he pulled it open. The only sound was the wind rustling the leaves along the street.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped outside and slowly shut the door behind him. Then he locked up and began to walk.

He didn’t like the cemetery. It was where his dad was buried, where his mom first spoke to him in that cloying voice during the funeral.

Bill and Richie didn’t have any dead family members that they remembered. Stan lost his grandfather a couple years back, but they weren’t close. Ben’s only family was his mother. Mike’s family was so big that funerals were more like family reunions. Only Bev understood what Eddie had experienced. Watching grief turn their surviving parent into a monster. Except Bev was safe now. Her aunt caught on and swept in, moving her out and getting Mr. Marsh arrested.

Eddie knew it wasn’t fair to compare their situations. Bev was being physically abused, while Eddie’s mom was just scary and mean. His mom made him feel weak sometimes, but surely that wasn’t anything like what Bev went through, right?

He shook his head, as if his thoughts would disappear like an etch-a-sketch. He’d made it to the cemetery gate, which was padlocked shut. He was the same height as the fence, and with a running start, was easily able to haul himself over. Once he gained his bearings, he immediately noticed a change in temperature. The surrounding streetlights only illuminated so far, so he put on the small headlamp. It wasn’t very bright, but it allowed him to actually see the paths zigzagging around the headstones and statues.

He circled the perimeter several times before heading toward the center. The graves closest to the church were the oldest, sporting pre-revolutionary war era dates. He hadn’t seen any movement yet, not even from small animals attempting to escape his presence. He’d assumed that he would have disturbed squirrels or chipmunks, maybe even a bird in a lower branch, but it was still and quiet. He would have called the atmosphere peaceful, if not for the knowledge that he was standing atop hundreds of body’s only six feet below him.

Just after three, he felt like giving up. He hadn’t even seen an animal, so why would something attacking them be here. He found himself moving with purpose toward a section he’d intentionally been avoiding. It wasn’t too hard to find his father’s grave, centered in a neat row, just like everyone else buried there.

_ Francis Kaspbrak _

_ Beloved Husband and Father _

_ 1946-1982 _

Seeing the familiar letters carved into the headstone made tears spring in his eyes. He knelt down, placing his right hand atop the smooth granite.

“I miss you,” he whispered, holding himself back from crying.

He shouldn’t have stopped here, shouldn’t have even come, God, what was he _ thinking _?

He watched several tears slip off his face onto the grass, letting himself grieve and process after all the new information he had been overloaded with in the past couple days. Then he got up and brushed off his pants, ready to go back home. He felt satisfied, even though he hadn’t really done _ much _.

Of course, just as he was imagining crawling back into his warm bed for the night, he saw a blur flash in front of him. He tried to turn his head in the direction he saw the movement head toward, but his light didn’t reach far enough. Just in case, he took out the pocket knife and flipped the largest blade out, holding it out in front of him as he walked.

The quiet was interrupted by high-pitched noises and disturbing crunching. Following the sound, he watched a figure emerge from the darkness. It was humanoid, hunched on the ground, and the noises seemed to be coming from it.

The light coming from Eddie’s headlamp seemed enough to disturb them, as they stopped and slowly turned.

Blood coated their lower face and hands. Their front teeth were elongated, all sharpened to points that glinted in the dim light. _ Vampire _ was the first word that came to his head.

The creature was clearly a man, or at least was one, once. Eddie was unsure if gender mattered much to the undead, if what was before him _ was _ undead.

“Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you. I’ll just, uh, leave you to it?” Eddie spoke quickly, hoping to deescalate the situation before one even arose.

The creature shrugged and turned back to it’s meal, which appeared to be a rodent of some kind. He didn’t really want to get any closer to know the exact species he was looking at.

Instead of immediately turning around, he backed up, focused on the back of the creature to ensure it wasn’t planning on eating _ him _ instead. When he was far enough that he couldn’t see it anymore, he finally turned, sprinting the rest of the distance to where he entered.

The color of the blood was all he saw when he closed his eyes. The eerie quiet roared in his ears. His heart kept pounding even after he had locked the door. He reminded himself he had to move slowly, but he couldn’t hear anything except for echoes in his mind of the sickening crunches he now knew to be from the bones that the thing had been snapping with its hands.

He had to keep reminding himself that whatever it was hadn’t killed any people yet, as far as he knew, and that meant it couldn’t be too bad, right?

When he tried to take off his sweater, he realized he was still gripping the knife. He tucked the blade back in and pocketed it an old pair of shorts he now used as pajamas. The handle resting against his thigh helped ground him, finally allowing him to rest. He’d gain another two hours of sleep before having to get ready for school in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i got my class schedule for the fall and im so excited!! im taking study of funerals, mortuary hygiene, and funeral home management one (as well as two online courses for osha and a lit requirement)! its really starting to feel Real, like I really am going to be able to direct funerals someday  
:) see yall next thursday


	10. Intimate Absolution and Vicious Exanimates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for dysphoria, internalized homophobia, emeto, descriptions of underage drinking, manipulation/forced hallucination, sexual assault, and descriptions of violence  
(if I missed something, let me know and I'll add it)

**Eddie**

When he woke up he was unsurprisingly exhausted. He dragged himself to shower, get dressed, and eat. He barely remembered the walk to school, the path familiar enough that he could keep his eyes shut for most of the way. He almost doesn’t hear Ben’s polite greeting, and is entirely unhelpful with their project, although Ben told Eddie he didn’t mind after multiple apologies. At lunch, he was more alert, thanks to Bev’s thermos of coffee she graciously offered.

“Wait, where’s Richie?” the whole table went silent.

“He shoved me at lunch yesterday and none of us have seen him since,” Stan’s usually-confident voice sounded meek and awkward, the way he spoke before they all became friends.

“He  _ shoved you _ ? What the fuck!”

“It looked like an accident but-”

“He p-puh-pushed him out of hi-his chair, how was that an a-accident, Bev!” Bill was close to yelling, clearly the most upset about the incident.

“It didn’t feel intentional,” Stan was looking directly at Bill, his eyes saying  _ drop it, it’s ok _ .

“So, why isn’t he here?” Ben asked, looking between Bev and Stan.

“You know how he gets when he’s hurt someone, even on accident?” Bev offered.

“Yeah, he convinces himself he’s a monster.” Stan finished. “I’m not even upset that he hurt me, I just wish he’d talk to us.”

They all went back to eating, too uncomfortable with the previous conversation to start any new ones.

**November 5th, 1993**

Eddie  _ planned _ to talk to Richie, but he wasn’t in class. In fact, he didn’t see Richie in  _ any _ classes, at lunch, even in the hallway for the rest of the week. So, when Richie was sitting at their table like nothing had changed on Friday, everyone was startled. They all ate awkwardly, trying to keep up conversations but trailing off. Richie himself had barely spoken, shoveling a double of the school's pizza and salad instead of talking.

Eddie found it strange, Richie usually spoke  _ too much _ to even finish a normal meal, but today he’d intentionally ordered extra  _ and  _ was looking likely to finish it all before the bell rang?

No one wanted to address the elephant in the room, as if Richie were a skittish animal that would bolt if they so much as looked at him. The analogy wasn’t entirely inaccurate, Richie  _ was _ prone to running from conflict, but only with friends. If it came from bullies or teachers, Richie would stand his ground, letting his trash mouth dig him further into a problem easily, if it meant taking attention away from the other losers.

“Uh, so, I wanted to apologize properly for ditching you guys all week. And for hurting you, Stan.” Richie’s eyes were glassy behind his frames.

“You didn’t hurt me, I was just surprised. And it was an accident anyway. No apology necessary. I will accept it for avoiding us, though,” Stan’s voice was calm and his eyes were kind. Richie was still fragile, and Stan was the best of their group at protecting Richie from himself.

“Now that things are all cool between us, I have news to share!” Bev’s eyes glinted as her voice pitched up in excitement. “I overheard Johnny Grover and Tiffany Smith talking about a party in Bangor tonight, and I figured we could crash it.”

“Sounds fun. I don’t know if I’ll be able to swing it with the folks, though.” Richie leaned back in his chair, balancing only on the two back legs.

“Just say we’re all staying at Ben’s,” Eddie yanked Richie’s chair back onto the ground. “Like always. Your mom always covers for us.”

“Oh, uh, sure. As long as we all promise not to drink and drive, I think she’ll be cool.”

“God bless Arlene!” Richie raised his hands up. “Before we leave tonight, you’ll all have to excuse me, Ms. Hanscom and I will need a little...  _ alone time _ .”

Eddie watched Stan’s eye twitch, a tell that he was nearly at his limit with Richie’s shit.

“Ow! Stan!”

“It wasn’t me this time,” Sure enough, Bev was looking away from the table with a light smirk on her face.

Eddie smiled to himself, happy that things were going back to normal.

In the afternoon, they all met at Bill’s car. Stan claimed shotgun, leaving the rest of them playing Tetris to fit in the back. Eddie and Bev were both in the middle seat, although they both ended up half-sitting in Richie and Ben’s laps, respectively. Ben’s face was almost certainly red, but he’d turned his head to look out the window, so Eddie couldn’t confirm it. He’d been tip-toeing around Bev for years, and hadn’t seemed to have caught on to Bev liking him back.

He’s listened to both of them wax poetic about the other on many occasions, they’d probably be together if Bev hadn’t actively pursued her crush on Bill back when they’d all first become friends. It was so frustrating, watching them both openly flirt but not picking up on it.

When he got home, he put everything away and started making dinner. He’d grown sick of microwave meals several years back, and when he expressed interest in learning to cook, his mother had initially been against it, but when he showed her all the health benefits from eating freshly-cooked meals, she relented.

On Fridays he let himself experiment, trying new recipes or using a more expensive ingredient. Tonight he’d decided to cook a steak, excitedly sprinkling in herbs, chopping up garlic, and frying a vegetable medley for the side. He hoped to one day be able to cook with wine, but his mother never had any in the house, and she refused to purchase any intended for cooking “I just don’t trust those kids you spend time with to try to intoxicate themselves with it” even though he’d tried to explain to her that the alcohol content in cooking wine was so minimal you  _ couldn’t _ get drunk with it.

“This smells lovely Eddie-bear. Thank you, sweetheart,” Sonia sat at the table while Eddie plated their food.

While they ate, they spoke about Eddie’s day at school, his upcoming assignments, while Sonia shared some of the experiences she’d had at the church that morning.

After easing her into a happy state of mind with good food and good news, Eddie felt comfortable asking for something for himself.

“I know it’s last minute, but would it be ok if I spend the night at Ben’s house? It’s been a while since just the two of us spent time together, and it would be a great way to finish our project.”

“I don’t know. You’d be staying inside, just working on homework all night? Does Mrs Hanscom know already?”

“Ben asked her last night, and yes, we’d just be completing the project. Maybe we could even finish some upcoming assignments?”

“You’re such a good student. That sounds alright.” She paused, finishing her last bite of food. “You’ll be back tomorrow morning, no later than eleven.”

“Of course, ma. Thank you,” Eddie began to clear the table, washing the dishes thoroughly while his mother went back to the living room. He had another couple hours before he had to walk to Ben’s, so he completed his chores and packed a duffle bag with clothes and a toothbrush, then doubled back and grabbed his pocket knife.

The walk to Ben’s house was short and pleasant. The breeze was cool and there were few cars on the streets at this time of day. Stan’s family’s minivan was already parked in the driveway, and Eddie could see Bev through the living room window.

Once Eddie changed into the clothes he’d brought and slipped the knife into his front left pocket, he sat with Ben and Stan, watching Bev put on makeup. When Bill arrived with Mike and Richie, she was nearly finished.

“Anyone wanna try?” She held out a tube of lipstick to the group of boys while touching up her mascara. Richie looked terrified.

Stan stepped forward, giving an over exaggerated shrug.

“Sure, why not?” The coral color didn’t suit his complexion, according to Bev, who wiped it off and tried another. Eddie pulled Richie aside.

“You know she didn’t mean it like that, right?” Eddie wanted to hold Richie’s hands, his shoulders, his face,  _ somewhere  _ to get him to  _ look _ at Eddie, to make sure Richie  _ knew _ Bev just wanted to share her makeup for a little fun.

“Yeah, I just- I forget that you guys see me, like, the way I want to be seen? And not the way that I still see myself sometimes.”

“Okay, I get it. Well, I don’t get it, but, you know what I mean.” Eddie awkwardly clapped Richie’s back as he passed him, unsure what to say. He knew he got in his head sometimes, but no one could fix what Richie was going through except for himself, no matter how much Eddie wished he could just fix everything  _ for _ Richie. Richie wasn’t a damsel in distress, and Eddie  _ de _ finitely wasn’t  _ his _ knight in shining armor.

After Stan, Ben, and Mike had all tried out different colors for Bev’s, and their own amusement, they went out to get into the minivan. Ms. Hanscom gave a little speech about driving safe and being responsible young adults before letting them leave.

They didn’t even need the address for the party, the music giving the whole block a heartbeat from the bass. Richie winced, grabbing Eddie’s hand and squeezing. Eddie squeezed back, turning to smile at Richie, but he was looking away, focused on something outside.

They all tumbled out of the vehicle, excitedly chatting with each other as they walked toward the house. Richie yanked his hand back, shoving both into his jacket pockets. Eddie felt a bit disappointed, but he knew it was risky.  _ Two boys holding hands after age five? _ It was completely unheard of in Derry. Bangor was about ten times the population of Derry, but it was just as uncommon.

Several people were hanging out on the front porch. Some were smoking, some were chatting, a girl was holding her friends hair back while she threw up into the bushes. Eddie gave them a wide berth.

The front door was unlocked, and a rush of warm air came from inside. Richie immediately took off into the house, and either didn’t hear or ignored the group calling for him to stay together.

The living room was packed with bodies, centered around one wall where the music was coming from. Bill took the lead, guiding them away from the main party. The dining room table had been pushed to one wall and all of the furniture from the living room had been shoved in as well. The couch was empty, surprisingly, so they all squished onto it, taking in the atmosphere.

Richie reappeared, holding a stack of cups in one hand and two bottles in the other. “Wodka und lemonade, everybody, da?” Richie asked in an accent that was probably supposed to be Russian, but sounded more German to Eddie.

“Every time, Richie! Just ask your parents to get lemonade if you like it that much!” Stan hated Richie’s attempts at mixed drinks, claiming they were always bad combinations and too weak. Richie had a notorious sweet-tooth, he enjoyed the sugar and flavors that mixed drinks offered over the alcohol content.

“If you want something different you can make it for yourself, Stan-man,” Richie placed all the cups onto the table, then poured the drinks. Stan made no move to get up, he was the designated driver tonight, anyways.

Bev grabbed Ben, dragging him out to dance. Even with the extra space, Bill and Mike stayed huddled together. Stan was people-watching, which he’d called a more boring version of bird-watching. Richie left to put the bottles back, meaning Eddie was alone. He got up and followed Ben and Bev, but was stopped on the way over.

“You’re cute. Dance with me?” The girl was short, with curly blonde hair that bounced as she spoke. She didn’t even wait for Eddie to respond, turning and walking away. Eddie moved too, suddenly compelled to dance with this stranger.

“My names Elizabeth, but you can call me Lizzie,” she smiled. Something felt off, but Eddie couldn’t place it, like a fog was falling over his mind.

“I’m Eddie” he heard himself tell her.

Several songs passed, but he barely felt time moving. This girl was striking in a way he couldn’t describe. Some part of him was screaming, begging to be freed. During a slow song, she pulled him in close, tucking her face into his neck.

He could see Ben and Bev dancing together, just a couple feet away. Bill and Mike were still talking to each other, wrapped up in whatever conversation they were having. Stan had moved to standing. And where was Richie? He shook his head, trying to clear his mind a bit.

Lizzie moved, craning her neck to look up at him.

“You wanna get outta here?” Eddie nodded his head without wanting to. He was more concerned about his missing friend, why would he want to go spend time with this girl he didn’t know? Still, he followed her to the backyard. She pushed him into a lawn chair, straddling his lap and beginning to kiss him.

Huh. This was his first kiss. And he wasn’t even paying attention. He tried to tell her to stop, slow down, but his mouth wouldn’t comply. She slowly made her way down to his neck, sucking and biting.

“I thought you’d be easy, but you’re a real fighter,” she was whispering in his ear now. “That makes it  _ way _ more fun though.”

He could hear her smirking through her words. Why was he letting her do this? He didn’t want this. He focused all his remaining mental energy on his hands, bringing them up to stop her.

“No,” he gritted out, pushing her away.

“No? Surely you don’t mean that, Eddie-baby?” She began to pout, an exaggerated expression.

“I meant no.”

“Hm, you’re no fun anymore,” Her faux-frown disappeared, her face morphing into something monstrous. He was reminded of the creature he’d seen the other night at the cemetery.

With shaky hands, he yanked the knife out of his pocket. She lunged at him, and all he could see were the rows of fangs in her mouth. He sunk the knife into her side.

“Son of a  _ bitch _ !” she shrieked. “That’s my favorite top!”

Eddie yanked the knife back out and shoved her again, rolling off the chair onto the grass. The knife was clean, no blood in sight.

“What the fuck,” he whispered to himself, standing up and regaining his bearings. His mind was clear again, the adrenaline clearing out whatever had been artificially calming him before.

The knife clearly did nothing, and if this girl  _ was _ a vampire, Eddie would have to use his pop-culture knowledge to assist him.

Several large trees surrounded the yard, there were even some sticks on the ground. Taking a chance, he sprinted for the closest one. He ripped off a low branch at an angle, causing the break to be sharp. But before he could do anything, he was tackled to the ground.

She was snarling in his face, her hands tearing at his clothes and skin. He was still gripping the make-shift stake. He closed his eyes and aimed for her chest.

Silence. He slowly opened his eyes. He was alone. The only evidence left of Lizzie was the dust still settling around him. He shot up, brushing himself off and coughing violently. He threw the stick away and picked the knife back up. Thankfully, no one else had been in the backyard.

“I need a drink,” he said to himself, walking back inside the stuffy house. There was a girl crying on the kitchen floor, but otherwise, it was empty. He didn’t care right now. He didn’t care about anything except getting himself drunk. He poured what he assumed was several shots into a clean cup, downing the whole thing in several stinging gulps. Then he poured some more and left the room, waiting for the alcohol to enter his system. He found an empty spot by the front to lean against the wall. Before he could do anything else, he heard yelling.

“Run away! Like you always do! You’re so scared of your problems that you don’t even face them! You just hide and hope they go away. Guess what, asshole, they don’t! You always make things so much worse!”

The whole room grew quiet.

“Maybe I shouldn’t be friends with you if you don’t even care!” That sounded like Richie

“Maybe you shouldn’t.” And that sounded like Stan.

Oh no.

Richie stormed past Eddie, slamming the door behind him, shaking the whole house.

Everyone was staring at Stan.

“The fight’s over now, nothing to see here anymore!” Bev shouted, steering Stan away from the dance floor.

He felt conflicted, should he follow Richie, who was probably waiting by the car? Or Stan, who was being led upstairs by Bev.

“Let them both cool off for now,” Ben came up to Eddie, putting his hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, alright,” Eddie sighed, swirling what was left in his cup and staring emptily at the party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the fight scene was 100% inspired by Buffy, if you couldn't tell.


	11. Household Brewing and Pardoned Regret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think I have to tag for anything but if I missed something lmk and I'll add it!

**Richie**

“Fucking  _ idiot _ !” He had to get away. Had to get himself back under control.

He punched a stop sign.

It bent.

The post was now a right angle, the sign perpendicular to the ground.

He looked around, the street was empty. _ Thank fuck. _

Not wanting to stick around for any further mistakes, he took off. When he reached the edge of the suburbs, close to the freeway, he ducked in the woods. He was fast now, but not fast  _ enough. _

Practicing  _ how  _ to be a werewolf for the past week while skipping school did have its benefits. He’d learned far more about himself this week than he would’ve learned about the world in his classes. He shifted, which was beginning to feel more and more natural. Getting home wouldn’t be _ too _ hard, as long as he followed the freeway back to Derry.

When he finally got home, he looked at the oven clock. 1:17.

He crept up the stairs and down the hall to his room, peeling back the covers and rolling himself up in all the blankets.

Now that he’d had time to think about it, he cried, tears slipping down his cheeks onto his pillow.

The thoughts circled him in his mind. He was trapped, like prey.

**November 6th, 1993**

He woke up to his mom humming something, opening his curtains and letting the morning sun into his room.

“Hey, you’re awake. You came home early? Didn’t want to spend the night at Ben’s? If you’re still not comfortable sleeping over with your boys, we can go talk to the doctor agai-”

“I had a fight with Stan,” he refused to make eye contact with his mother. Shoulders up around his ears, he stared at his hands, where they were tucked into his lap.

“Oh, sweetie.” She stopped what she was doing, coming over to the bed and wrapping her arms around him. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“It’s just- I got so  _ mad _ over  _ nothing _ ! So he got mad too. We said some really shitty things and I don’t know how to apologize.”

She brushed his hair off his forehead. “How about you start with ‘I’m sorry’ and go from there.”

He tried to laugh, but it came out more like a sob.

“Okay. How about this? I make you some breakfast, and afterwards, if you’re feeling better, you go over to his home and apologize.”

“You’re smart. That sounds alright.”

“Not smart, just had a lot of arguments. If the person  _ truly _ matters to you, then you don’t care as much about being right. I think you care more about staying friends with Stan than whatever you got mad about.”

“Thanks mom,” He brought his arms up to properly hug her back. They stayed like that for a bit, just holding each other.

It was nice, just sitting and enjoying each other’s presence.

She let go. “Stay here. I’ll bring something up for you.”

“Awesome,” He laid back down, shoving his pillows up against the wall to prop himself up.

He tried not to let his mind wander,  _ Had Eddie heard us last night? What does he think happened? _

Before he could really stress himself out, his mom returned. She had one of their nice plates, two  _ huge  _ pancakes topped with a smiley face made from strawberry eyes, a blueberry nose, and a bacon smile. In her other hand she had a small bowl of fruit, more berries.

He grinned. “Holy-”

“You better not finish that sentence young man.”

He shut his mouth, miming zipping his lips closed, then locking and throwing the key away.

She handed him his plate, ruffling his hair. “ _ Be careful _ . If you spill anything,  _ you’re _ cleaning it up.”

“Yes m’aam!” He happily dug into his pancakes, alternating bites of fruit, bacon, and pancake for  _ flavor variety _ .

Eddie and Stan were both sticklers about keeping food separated.  _ You eat them one at a time, Richie! _

But that was  _ boring _ to Richie, who needed the constant change to want to finish everything on his plate. He was a bit picky, so if he ate the things he didn’t like in between the things he  _ did _ like, then he’d actually eat the healthy food.

He decided to do his laundry anyway, even though he hadn’t spilled a crumb or drop.

His mother watched him from the kitchen, a pleased smile on her face.

Of course, doing chores was easy when you were putting something else off.

When he volunteered to clean the bathroom, Maggie finally realized what was going on.

“That’s very responsible of you. You know what would be  _ even more _ responsible?”

Richie tilted his head. “Hm?”

“Going over to the Uris’.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

“Andrea told me that Stanley loves my homemade pasta sauce. Why don’t you help me make that?”

“Um. Ok.”

The rest of the morning went quickly, helping cut the ingredients and taste-testing. His mom pulled out several mason jars and added squares of gingham cloth before screwing on the lid. She handed two to Richie and shoved him out the door.

“Be back for dinner!”

He put the jars into his pockets and hopped on his bike. It was a bit awkward, he didn’t have a basket but his pockets were big enough.

He’d had one as a kid, but made Eddie remove it when they were seven because  _ baskets are for girls and I’m  _ not _ a girl! _ Eddie hadn’t said anything, just got out his dad’s toolbox and removed it.

Stan’s house came into view when he turned onto his street, looking more ominous than usual.

He took the time to park his bike in the bike-rack next to the garage.

He took the steps onto the porch two at a time, giving the door several firm knocks.

“Hello, Richard.” Stan’s father opened the door.

“Hi. Is Stan home?”

“Yes. Come in, he’ll be down in just a moment.”

Richie closed the door behind him, waiting in the foyer.

Stan came down the stairs, expression dangerously neutral.

Richie took the sauce jars out of his pockets, holding them out in front of him as a peace offering.

“I brought some of my mom’s pasta sauce that you like. I helped make it this morning. I also wanted to apologize, for how I’ve been acting recently and for what I said last night. I didn’t mean any of it. I just wanted you to leave me alone.”

Stan quietly took the jars, going into the kitchen and putting them into the fridge. When he came back out, he awkwardly shifted his weight. “I suppose I should apologize too. I also said things that I didn’t mean. I pressed you when you had told me not to and made you feel as though I see you as inferior. I  _ do _ respect you, and I don’t think you cause problems.”

“So, we’re cool? We’re still friends?”

“Of course, you idiot.” Stan closed the distance, putting Richie in a crushing hug.

“That was  _ way _ easier than I thought?”

“Yeah, that’s how it’s supposed to be.”

“Oh. Huh.” They pulled apart.

“I get it, though. It’s hard to own up. Especially if you’re stubborn.”

“Oh man! If you and Eddie got into a bad argument? Neither of you would  _ ever _ concede!”

“Nah, you guys would force us to make up.”

“Hm, you’re right. So, do you have time to hangout? I have something to tell you.”

Stan’s eyebrow rose. “I’m available at the moment.”

“Cool.”

They went upstairs. Richie sat on Stan’s bed, so well-made you could flip a coin off it. Stan shut his door.

“So I don’t know how to tell you this.”

“Take your time. Start from the beginning”

“Okay. The beginning. So, last week, after you guys had all left, I was alone in the woods. I didn’t feel like going home, dunno why. But it got dark quick. I didn’t want my parents to worry, so I started heading back. But it was so quiet? It was super freaky. And then this  _ wolf _ came outta nowhere and chased me! And it was like, stick-thin? Like, it was  _ starving _ and I thought that it must have rabies if it was willing to go for a human meal. Anyways it got me, chomped onto my legs and stomach. But then it left? So I ran to my bike and went home. And you know I can’t go to the Derry Hospital? So I patched myself up. But when I went to re-do them, all the wounds were gone? So I thought that maybe I’d dreamt it? But I was curious, because I was pretty sure that wolves don’t live in Maine, so I got some books from the library. And I went through like all of them and they all said basically the same thing. Except the last one, which was a  _ weird _ book. No title, no author, no publication date, no copyright page, nothing! How did it end up in the school library? But I read it, and it started talking about werewolves, so I was gonna stop, but then it described like, everything I went through, to a T. I’m super strong. Like, spider-man strong. And I can smell and hear things way better. And I can turn into a wolf. Which is so fucking cool?”

“Richie. That’s not funny. I know you like to make jokes but this is a bit too out there.”

“What? I’m not joking!”

“Yeah, and I’m the Hulk. C’mon, maybe you could get away with this if we were like, I dunno, ten.”

“No, wait, Stan. Look at me.” He concentrated, making his eyes change.

“You got colored contacts or something.”

“Ugh, no! Just- turn around for a sec?”

“Why?”

“Just- trust me for two seconds?”

“...Alright,” He turned slowly

Richie quickly stripped, forcing his body to shift. He quietly barked.

Stan turned around, searching the room for Richie.

I _ ’m right here!  _ Richie wanted to say, but it came out as another bark.

“What the fuck.”

Richie rolled his eyes.  _ Told you so. _

“Ok. You’re telling the truth. Ok,” Stan’s breathing picked up.

Richie whined, taking a step forward.

“Im hyperventilating because I just have to reestablish my entire understanding of the world. Give me a second.”

Richie didn’t want Stan to freak out because of him. He nuzzled Stan’s hand with his nose, then licked him.

“Richie! That’s so gross!”

But Richie had accomplished what he’d wanted. Stan was no longer focused on freaking out. He ran to the bathroom, washing his hands.

When he came back into his room, he kneeled. Richie trotted over, putting his face into Stan’s outreached hands.

He ruffled Richie’s fur, squished his face, examined his ears, all while staring in awe.

“This is so weird.”

Richie tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. _ Tell me about it. _

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sure it’s much weirder for you.”

Stan sat on his bed, pulling out a book.

“At least you’re quiet like this.”

He followed Stan, jumping up onto the bed.

“What? No!” Stan tried shoving Richie off.

But Richie had already started circling, plopping down onto the end of the bed. He rested his head on Stan’s foot.

“Oh that was cute. You’re doing that on purpose. Evil. Evil puppy.”

Richie’s ears perked up at that, frowning.

“What. We’re still kids. That means you’re a puppy.”

He huffed, then yawned, showing off his sharp teeth.

“Okay, tough guy. You’re  _ real _ scary. Big bad wolf.”

Richie dozed, listening to Stan’s even breathing while he read.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rihcie's second full moon happens next chapter !!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for misgendering (one instance) and internalized homophobia & transphobia.

**Richie**

**November 8th, 1993**

He’d ended up sleeping over at Stan’s, going home late Sunday night after Stan had kicked him out because he’d admitted he hadn’t finished his homework. It’s not like it was  _ hard,  _ just tedious. A waste of his time, in his own opinion.

He could be tested right now and ace it. But that was the issue, wasn’t it? That he was really good at taking tests, but when it came to sitting down to read or complete assignments at home? He’d nearly failed Pre-Calc last year just because he never handed in any assignments; if he had, he probably would’ve been top of the class. He just couldn’t remember, and when he did, he’d just sit there, staring at the blank page and getting lost in his head for hours.

He was shoveling scrambled eggs into his mouth when he heard a car park outside. He scooped up his backpack and gave his mother’s cheek a kiss before running to the door. He opened it, and Stan’s arm was comically raised in the air, about to knock.

“That’s weird. You did that because of the  _ thing _ right? You’re weird.”

Richie shrugged, closing the door behind him and following Stan off the porch.

“So, I thought about everything you told me, and I’m in. I want to help you on the next full moon.”

“Sick! Stan  _ my _ man!” He raised his arm up.

Stan scoffed, but still gave Richie a high-five.

“My knowledge only comes from Wolfman and Teen Wolf, but I don’t think Michael J. Fox gave that accurate of a portrayal. I need you to help me research, because I can’t remember what I do. You have to monitor me, make sure I don’t run around Derry killing people, or animals.”

“I can do that. So long as you’re chained up. I do /not/ want you slobbering all over me again.”

“They were  _ kisses _ Stanley! I was saying  _ I love you _ !”

“I don’t ever want you to kiss me, human or otherwise.”

“You’re always ruining my fun. You should lighten up some time.”

“If I lighten up, will you mellow out?” Richie went through a series of facial expressions, but before he could respond, Stan interrupted him. “That’s what I thought.”

Richie pouted, ending the conversation.

Lunch was weird, tense. No one wanted to ask why Stan and Richie were suddenly chummy again, and it seemed everyone had picked a side in the argument. Eddie had surprisingly sided with Stan for once, along with Bill. Ben and Bev, and apparently Mike as well, had taken Richie’s side. They were all quiet when Richie and Stan had walked in the room, practically on top of each other. Richie was cackling, and Stan was trying not to grin.

Richie went to take his seat next to Eddie, but he wasn’t in his normal spot, instead on the end, with Bill on his only open side. Bev and Ben were on the opposite corner of the table. Stan sat down in the middle, so Richie followed, sitting across from him. They traded pieces from their lunch. Stan had brought extra candy that was about to go bad, leftover from Halloween. When Richie was about to bite into the candy bar, Stan suddenly smacked it out of his hands.

“What the fuck man?”

“You can’t have that. I just realized.”

“What are you talking about?”

Stan leaned over, whispering in Richie’s ear. “Chocolate could cause you to have a seizure. You could be allergic now.”

“What? No way!” Richie took a large bite, chewing quickly and swallowing before Stan could say anything else.

“Fine, it’s your funeral.” Stan looked away, going back to rifling through his organized lunchbox.

Richie noticed Eddie was staring at him from his periphery, he didn’t want Eddie to know that he knew. Maybe Eddie didn’t even realize he /was/ staring.

**November 12th, 1993**

“I was thinking we could do a trial run this weekend, make sure we have enough food and blankets.” Stan joined Richie in the hall, immediately starting conversation.

“Oh. Does tonight work?”

“Tonight should be fine, we’ll just have to grab everything after dinner.”

“Sounds fine by me. Later Stanny-boy!” He ducked into class, not wanting Stan to catch onto his anxiety.

That afternoon, Richie joined Stan at his car. He pulled out a cigarette, waiting for Eddie, who was unusually late. Stan glared at him until he moved away.

He leaned against the outside of the fence, closing his eyes and just… feeling.

_ Eddie’s birthday is coming up. _

The last time Eddie had a birthday for himself, he was seven, and he’d invited  _ everyone _ .

_ They’d rented a bounce house castle and a clown. Everyone had wanted to be Eddie’s friend that day, but only Richie, Bill, and Stan actually cared about  _ Eddie _ , not what his father could afford. _

_ Richie had felt so young, so little compared to Eddie, even though he was taller and louder than him, because he was only six and Eddie was seven. But then Eddie had been nervous about going in the bounce house on his own, so Richie took his hand and put on a brave face, guiding him into the structure. _

_ They’d stumbled off, red-faced and giggling, ready to tell Stan and Bill about their new adventures as knights, when Eddie’s parents approached them. _

_ Frank had smiled knowingly, while Sonia had asked in an accusatory tone “Is  _ this  _ your little girlfriend?” _

_ Richie had taken off crying. He didn’t  _ want _ to make a scene, it was  _ Eddie’s day.

_ He and his parents had done everything they could. He’d gotten new clothes, a new haircut, and a new name, but it still wasn’t enough. Eddie hadn’t even known Richie before he was Richie, and Sonia still saw through him. Maybe everyone did. Maybe  _ Eddie _ did. What if Eddie did see him as his girlfriend? He did like the idea of Eddie being his boyfriend but- boys weren’t supposed to be with boys, and Richie was certain that he was a boy. _

_ When he was thirteen, after adding three new friends to their little club, he’d told them all. They had all congratulated him. Thanked him for sharing. Gave him crushing hugs. But Eddie hadn’t said anything for a while, and Richie was so scared that he would be the only one who couldn’t accept him. He’d heard the things that Sonia had said while they were growing up. Violent, evil things that kept him up at night. Things that made him feel like a monster. _

_ But then Eddie had looked up at him, with tears in his kind eyes, and hugged him like he’d never been hugged before. They whispered several secrets and promises to each other that late summer afternoon, They basked in the sunshine that reflected off the quarry water onto their bodies, haloing them all, uniting them. _

Now, Eddie was going to be eighteen. The first in their little group to reach adulthood, and he wasn’t going to be able to celebrate it? No way.

He could hear someone approaching. It was Bev. Probably to join him.

He let her take the cigarette out of his hands, getting out a new one for himself, then, thinking better of it, putting it back.

Bev cocked an eyebrow. “That’s new.”

“What? I’m letting you finish for me.”

She shrugged, turning to stand next to him.

“So we’re throwing a surprise party for Eds, yeah?”

“Of course. We were waiting for you to mention it.”

“Oh. Sorry. Lots on my mind.”

“Clearly,” she said, rolling her eyes.

Bill pulled up a bit later, stopping at the curb. Bev got in, waving her manicured fingers at Richie.

He went back to Stan’s car, but he was still alone.

“Eddie hasn’t showed up yet?”

“No, it’s weird.”

“Maybe he just went home today? Like, he forgot?”

“Sure.”

“Do you think we could swing by his house?”

Stan sighed. “Yeah.”

They both got into the car, leaving the parking lot.

They quickly arrived at the Kaspbrak house, and Stan parked the car by the sidewalk.

Richie took a deep breath, just in case Sonia answered, then went up to the front door. He knocked several times.

“Coming!” He heard Eddie call from inside. “Richie? What are you doing here?”

“It’s Friday... we’re supposed to go out to dinner together.”

“Oh.  _ Shit _ . I forgot. Sorry. I can’t tonight. My mom’s been wanting to do more  _ family stuff.” _

“Okay. Have fun, I guess. I-We’ll miss you. Bye.” He walked back to the car, not even listening for Eddie’s response.

“He’s not coming?” Stan put the car back in drive.

“Said his mom is making them spend more time together.”

“Hm.” They took off, out of town to the diner.

That night, after everyone left, Richie felt a bit hollow. The emptiness in his chest could only be filled with an Eddie-sized shape.

He and Stan went back to Richie’s house first, telling his parents that he would be at Stan’s for the night. Then to Stan’s, taking two duffle bags filled with supplies and telling the Uris’ that they’d be at  _ Richie’s _ for the night. One last trip to the hardware store and they were set.

Stan held a flashlight out in front of him, while Richie trudged through the forest unaided, his eyes good enough with just the moon.

The clubhouse had been untouched since Richie’s last full moon, and although it was already dark out and the next full moon wouldn’t happen for another couple weeks, he still had to tamp down some nerves.

Richie set up the blankets, making a cozy space for Stan in the hammock and himself on the ground. Meanwhile, Stan put the rope in place. He intended to tether Richie to the sturdiest beam, trying to increase the surface area as much as possible.

“Alright, let’s test it.” Stan turned away.

Richie removed his clothes, tying himself up as much as he could on his own, then letting Stan take over with averted eyes.

Then, he shifted. It was awkward, too tight on his forelimbs, keeping him held up on his legs. Then they weren’t tight enough. They went through several iterations, trying to find the best result.

Maybe an hour later, and Richie finally felt secured, unable to break himself free, but not restrained to the point of discomfort. He was exhausted, and let himself finally fall onto the comfortable blanket pile he’d made for himself.

“We did good, buddy.” Stan patted the top of his head, then reached in one of the bags and pulled out some snacks. He tossed a chip to Richie, and he caught it in his mouth. They went through the bag quickly, Stan laughing at Richie’s antics. They were both really tired though, and Stan eventually curled himself into the hammock. “Night, Rich.”

Richie huffed in response.  _ Night, Stan. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some stozier crumbs... and little kid reddie :)


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie looked over at him, tucking his chin onto Eddie’s shoulder with a gentle smile. He looked back at the movie, but wasn’t really paying attention.
> 
> Eddie inhaled sharply, his body rigid for a moment, then relaxed and wrapped a blanket concealed arm around Richie’s back.
> 
> He sighed, a content little sound as he let himself be held.

**Richie**

**November 13th, 1993**

He woke up to the smell of something sugary. He opened his eyes slowly, feeling lazy until he saw what Stan had in his hands. It was an oatmeal creme cookie. His stomach growled audibly.

Stan tossed him a packaged cookie, but it was just out of reach. He strained and pulled but it was just too far. Stan laughed at him, but he was getting up to untie him in the same breath.

Stan turned away and he shifted back, changing into the clothes Stan handed him. Then he scrambled for the cookie, ripping open the packaging and inhaling the plasticky-sugar smell. He devoured it in two bites, looking at Stan expectantly for more. Stan just handed him the grocery bag full of food.

“Thanks man, you know me so well.” He picked his way through the snacks, alternating between savory and sweet. Stan looked like he wanted to comment, but remained silent.

When Richie finished, they both left the damp earth, emerging into the morning sunshine. He felt  _ prepared _ . Like maybe, if he could just get through this next full moon, he could do anything.

“Our trial run was a success.”

“It was. Although, it was only sort of a trial.”

“Whatever. This is something to celebrate!”

“Your junk food breakfast wasn’t enough celebration?”

“No way. You’d have fed me regardless. We should get something nice for ourselves.”

“Hm. I don’t know if I’ll have enough money left to afford a gift for myself, Eddie,  _ and  _ gas for the car.”

“Shit! We gotta get everyone together to plan for Eddie’s party!”

“We do?”

“ _ Yeah _ , we have to be serious about this. We  _ cannot _ have a repeat of ‘91.”

“Ah, the not-so-sweet sweet sixteen-”

“You knew better than to assign Bill on cake duty! Salt instead of sugar? And his mom came home early! And Ben spoiled the surprise a whole week early. And-” Richie cut himself off, suddenly reminded of the  _ personally  _ embarrassing reason Eddie’s sixteenth birthday party had gone wrong. He’d snuck Eddie out later that night for ice cream, as consolation for the ruined cake and to get him away from his mom. Eddie had said it was like a date, and Richie had panicked, leaving Eddie in the middle of the creamery.

“And...? What? I thought that was it?” Stan watched Richie’s face turn red. “What did you do?”

“Nothing! Fuck off!” Richie gently shoved Stan, only barely knocking him off balance. They were both becoming accustomed to Richie’s new strength.

Stan hummed, turning to look up at the trees.

**November 14th, 1993**

“We are officially commencing  _ plan Eddie’s eighteenth birthday party _ ! One, we’ll host at my house. Two, Mike, Ben, and I are in charge of the food. We’re making appetizers, a main course, and dessert. Three, Stan, Bev, and Bill are in charge of decorations. We have stuff in the basement leftover but you might wanna go shopping if you want a cohesive theme and customized letters. Fourth, and most importantly, we’re doing it a week before his actual birthday and we are  _ keeping it a surprise.” _ Richie glared at Ben for a moment, before turning back to the group with an overexaggerated smile.

Bev raised her hand.

“Yes?”

“So by me, Stan, and Bill, you just mean me while Stan tells me that I’ve placed something up crooked and Bill steals  _ samples _ from the kitchen?”

Richie pretended to think for a moment, then dramatically nodded his head. “Yuh-huh!”

Bev groaned, placing her head in her hands. Ben reached out to comfort her, but seemed to think better of it and withdrew back into himself. He seemed a bit smaller, recently. Despite his height nearly rivaling Richie’s, he seemed tinier than Bill. Richie wouldn’t say he was very emotionally intelligent, but he could tell  _ something _ was up with Ben, and resolved to at least talk to him.

**November 21st 1993**

Richie walked out of the kitchen for the first time in hours. The entire first floor was decorated in blue and silver. In the front entryway hung a sign that read “Happy 18th Eds!”. The smell of baked goods wafted through the house, Richie’s marbled cake sitting proudly on the counter, freshly frosted. He put Mike on keep-Bill-from-taste-testing duty, since Bill could only ever seem to listen when Mike told him no.

Bev was in the living room, holding a strip of long tinsel on the end of the wall. Stan was directing her to make it even, although she seemed to have made it even several ‘a little more to the left’s ago. The whole room did look fantastic, Bev and Stan were both talented at balancing the party feel.

Ben was at the dining table, shifting the appetizers and chip bowls around.

“It looks good.”

Ben jumped, startled by Richie’s sudden presence.  _ Gotta work on my entrances. I’m like a wolf ninja.  _ He told himself.

“Really though,” Richie stilled Ben's outreached hand, moving to shift it all again. “It does look nice. I’m sure Bev would agree.”

Ben turned away, extracting his hand from Richie’s grip. He could hear his heartbeat pick up.

“Woah, great job Ben!” Bev bounded into the room, Stan trailing behind her.

“Thanks, Beverly.” Ben’s cheeks turned pink.

Bev took a handful of plain chips, using the dip Mike had brought from home.

_ “Secret family recipe. I’m not allowed to share.” _ He’d told them when he’d arrived.

And now they just had to wait. It was only half past noon, and Richie had asked Eddie back on Friday to come at one.

As time ticked on, Richie got antsy, struck with sudden anxiety. He’d been so focused on making the party good, he hadn’t considered that maybe Eddie wouldn’t want a party this year. Maybe Eddie was sick of Richie and the others throwing “surprise” parties every year.

He’d panicked himself into a corner in his mind. Stan’s hand on his arm brought him out of his thoughts.

“Your eyes are flickering, I don’t know what you’re thinking about but you gotta calm down.”

Richie took a deep breath. “Okay. I’m okay.”

At one, they all stood near the door, waiting patiently to jump out. By one thirty, they’d all gone back to the dining room to snack. When Stan announced that it was half past two, Richie was sat on the couch in a slumped pile. Mike suggested they watch a movie until Eddie arrived, and he and Bill rifled through the Tozier’s collection of tapes until they found something they assumed everyone would enjoy.

“Bill and Ted’s a cuh-classic,” Bill held up the case. He didn’t wait for anyone else to give their opinion, sliding the tape out and pushing it into the slot under the tv.

The movie started playing, and the credits scrolled up the screen.

“Richie, d-do you not know how to f-fucking rewind?”

“I do! But last time I watched this I’d fallen asleep right here after I turned it off and my mom put it away. Just-” He got up, ejecting the vhs and putting it in the rewinder. It spun for several seconds, loudly whirring, then it popped back up.

Richie slunk back over to his spot on the couch and plopped himself down, curling himself back into a blanket cocoon.

Bill put the movie back in, and it started from the beginning, music played while futuristic shapes heralded the actors names. It was one of Richie’s favorite movies to watch with his friends, especially after they reached high school and really understood some of the history jokes.

The credits to Bogus Journey started rolling three hours later.

“He’s not coming.” He said it aloud, not _ to  _ anyone, just stating his realization that Eddie had either forgotten or was intentionally avoiding them.

“Yes. He is.” Bev stood up from the loveseat, marching out of the room. She put her boots on and yanked the door open. They all watched her walk down the street and turn the corner toward Eddie’s home.

“He is  _ so dead _ .” Mike said from over Richie’s shoulder.

Only ten minutes later, Bev was walking up the sidewalk with a guilty-looking Eddie in tow.

None of them were really in a partying mood anymore, so they all just waited in front of the door, saying a weak “Happy Birthday Eddie” when he came inside.

They pulled him into the dining room while Ben took some of the snacks back to the kitchen to heat up. Eddie took a couple chips for show, but otherwise seemed to be reluctant to eat anything. Richie followed Ben into the kitchen to help get everything ready again. Dinner had been kinda ruined for all of them from the excessive snacking, so they just grabbed some candles and placed them all on the cake.

Everyone helped clear up the table, putting the empty dishes in the sink and the ones still filled onto the kitchen counter. The cake was placed in front of Eddie and they began to sing to him with the lights dimmed. His eyes were shiny in the candlelight. When they finished, Eddie pulled a candle from the cake and blew it out in his palm.

“You get your spit on the cake if you blow all over it.” He explained. Richie extinguished the rest of the fire with his fingers.

Ben brought a knife over, dividing up the cake and placing the slices on the Toziers’ fancy glass plates. Eddie got the first bite, of course, waiting until everyone had their own piece and was sitting before starting. They all praised Richie for making such a great cake.

“It’s no biggie.”

“Yes it is, Richie. You stayed up late last night making it and then several hours today making the frosting and putting the design on it.” Stan said. He was sat across from him, daring him to downplay his effort.

“Okay, yes. I did work kinda hard on it.”

“Thanks, Rich.” Eddie was looking at him directly, with his big soft eyes. “It’s probably the best cake I’ve had.”

“That’s not saying much,” Bev fake-whispered to Mike. Bill turned crimson.

“I worked h-hard on th-that cake too!”

“We know, Bill,” Mike put his hand on Bill’s arm.

They put on one more movie, Eddie’s choice.

“Hook, ‘cause it’s fun,” They all nodded in agreement.

“And ‘cause Julia Roberts,” Richie added with a low whistle.

Stan reached over and smacked him.

Eddie sat in his usual spot on the couch, next to Richie. He grabbed the blanket Richie had and tried to tuck himself into Richie’s side, but he was still upset, and scooted as far as he could, hugging the arm and picking at where it was frayed. He heard Eddie’s heartbeat pick up, could feel Eddie watching him. But then Eddie settled, resigned to his portion of the blanket and turning to watch the movie. Richie let out the breath he was holding, both happy and disappointed that Eddie didn’t try harder to be closer to him.

_ You’re an idiot! He obviously feels bad about missing the party and wants to make up for it and you’re being a dick!  _ He screamed at himself.

As the movie went on, Eddie did try again, getting closer and closer every time he got up for a handful of popcorn, until Richie was fully sandwiched between the couch and Eddie. He got a handful of popcorn for himself, and when he sat down, he curled toward Eddie instead.

Richie looked over at him, tucking his chin onto Eddie’s shoulder with a gentle smile. He looked back at the movie, but wasn’t really paying attention.

Eddie inhaled sharply, his body rigid for a moment, then relaxed and wrapped a blanket concealed arm around Richie’s back.

He sighed, a content little sound as he let himself be held.

He heard a car pull into the driveway, his parents chatting and giggling as they made their way to the porch. The door opened quietly and they walked into the living room.

“Hey kids, did you have a good time?”

“Yes, Mrs. Tozier.” Eddie responded for them.

“I’m so glad. Happy early birthday Eddie.” She reached over, ruffling both Richie and Eddie’s hair with her hands.

“Thanks.”

Richie leaned his head back to look up at his mom. He could tell from his periphery that Eddie was blushing.

“We don’t want to kick you lot out, but it is a school night.”

“Just ‘til the movie ends, okay dad?” Richie pleaded, turning to look at his father.

“Sure,” Went took Maggie’s hand and they left the room. “Night all.”

“Goodnight Mr. and Mrs. Tozier,” they all spoke in unison, save for Richie.

Not long after, the movie ended. They all got up, stretching their joints and muscles. Bev yawned loudly.

“Great job team, see you guys in the morning.” Richie said, heading to the kitchen to start cleanup.

“Two day weeks are so fuckin’  _ pointless. _ Why can’t they just give us the whole week off?” Bev complained loudly.

“Because we are all slaves to their Machine.” Stan said.

Richie didn’t hear anymore responses, assuming they’d all just nodded sagely.

He heard the door open and shut, but there was one extra heartbeat in the house. Someone hadn’t left.

“Hey Rich,” Eddie was standing in the doorway. “I’m sorry that I ruined my own party.”

“No problem, Eds.”

“No, I forgot that you told me to come over, and then I took a nap. Bev almost had to break in to wake me up.”

“Oh. Well, you didn’t know it was a party so you didn’t think it was that import-

“It is important!” Eddie realized he’d raised his voice and added, more quietly. “You’re important.”

“Fuck, Eddie-”

“I know that I’ve been  _ weird _ lately. And I’m sorry. I just- Can I make it up to you?”

“Sure, whatever you want, man.”

“Are you able to hang out next week? On my actual birthday? Just the two of us.”

_ Fuck fuck fuck. Say no. Fucking say no!  _ “Sure, I’m free.”  _ Idiot! _

“Cool, I’ll pick you up at six,” He hugged Richie tightly. _ Fuck, was he stronger? Were his arms bigger? When did that happen? _ “See ya.”

“Yeah, bye.” Richie waved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :3c
> 
> The full moon ended up pushed for either next chapter or the one after, because I moved some things around.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for a mix of trans/homophobia and also fatphobia from sonia at the end.

**November 28th, 1993**

He showed up at Richie’s house fifteen minutes before six. He was in his puffy winter coat, resembling a bright red marshmallow.

“Happy birthday Eds.” Richie threw on his denim jacket.

“Thanks,” He eyed him for a moment. “Are you warm enough in just that?”

“Yeah, believe it or not but some people just run hot. The snow’s nice on my boiling skin.” He pulled up his sleeve and placed Eddie’s hand on his forearm. He was  _ really _ warm.

“Are you sure you don’t just have a fever?” He reached up to examine his forehead with the back of his hand, but he didn’t feel  _ hot _ , nor did he look sick.

Richie shook his head. “So, since it’s your birthday, I thought it would be fun if we went to see a new movie?” He closed the door behind him, jumping over the porch steps to the sidewalk.

“Sounds good. We could see the new RoboCop?”

“Sure, I mean, sequels aren’t usually that great but we can give it a try?”

“Ugh, you’re probably right. We can figure it out when we get there.”

“I mean if you’re deadset on RoboCop, we can see RoboCop.”

“I said we’ll see.”

“Alright.” They walked side by side, their arms brushing every once in a while. Eddie either didn’t notice, due to his oversized coat, or didn’t care.

The theater was a bit busier than normal, filled with families and teens.

There were several interesting movies out, but all of them were ones they should probably see as a group. Mindless action was a bit better since they could talk and people would be less likely to hear.

“Two tickets to RoboCop 3, a large bucket of popcorn, two medium sodas, and a candy?” Eddie placed the Sno-Caps on the counter.

“That’ll be $15.83.”

Richie fished around in his wallet for a ten, a five, and a one. The cashier handed him the receipt, which he immediately crumpled around the change and shoved in his pocket.

He rolled his eyes, taking the large popcorn and tickets while Richie carried the drinks and candy.

They navigated the dark hallways to the seventh theater, Eddie in the lead.

Normally he would’ve sat them down in the middle, toward the front, but today he took the very back row.

“Scandalous, Eds. You know you’re sitting with me and not a hot girl, though, right?”

Eddie looked at him for a bit. “Yeah? I wanna sit with you back here.”

“Even with all the unidentifiable stains?”

“Wh- Are you- ! There are no  _ unidentifiable stains _ back here, dumbass.”

“Sure. Get a blacklight and you’ll change your mind.”

“Eugh, why do you have to be so gross?”

“I dunno, why did you want to sit back here? We gonna make out a little?”

Eddie blushed in the dim light. He hoped Richie couldn’t see. “I-”

“I’m just messin’ with you. You know my shtick.”

Eddie laughed sarcastically. “Right.”

Richie reached over for some popcorn, turning to watch the seemingly endless previews. Eddie joined him, trying to ignore his embarrassment.

The movie was pretty bland, they’d chatted during almost every scene.

“I have to tell you something,” Richie suddenly turned to Eddie, his face grim.

“I do too.”

“Okay then. You first.”

“What? You brought it up. You go first.”

“Fine.” He took a deep breath. “A little while ago, something happened to me. I tried to ignore it, but it got worse and I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t tell anyone because I didn’t want to be harassed for it. But I can’t ignore it. I told Stan and after I explained everything, he was actually really nice about it? And I wanted to tell you too. Because you’re my best friend and I don’t like keeping secrets, especially this.”

“Rich...”

“I’m-”

“It’s okay. I get it.”

“Wha- really?”

“Yeah. This town makes it hard. You’re really brave, more than me.”

“Wait, Eddie-”

“Really, it’s okay.” He took a steadying breath to clear his thoughts. “I’m gay too.”

“No, Eddie, that’s not-”

“Not what- Funny? I’m not fucking with you.”

“No, I- I’m a monster, Eddie-”

He reached for Richie’s hand, gripping it tightly. “If you’re a monster then so am I.”

“You’re really not-”

“Then you aren’t either. Okay? It’s okay. I  _ just _ allowed myself to start to accept it, I hope you can too.”

Richie's eyes searched Eddie's face, flitting about quickly, trying to spot any deceit. “...okay.”

“Good. See? That wasn’t so bad.” He repositioned their hands, lacing his fingers with Richie’s. “Do you think you’ll tell your parents? They were pretty cool the first time around.”

“I don’t know yet. Maybe...”

“You’ve got time.  _ We’ve _ got time. Let’s just enjoy it for now?”

“Sure, Eddie-spaghetti.”

“Wh- Fuck you! We had a nice moment and you had to ruin it! I can’t believe you.” He yanked his hand back from Richie, crossing his arms

“Nah, you love it Eds.” Richie poked his cheek.

“I fucking don’t.”

_ You told him and it didn’t change anything. He’s gay too. This all has to mean something, right? _ He silently hoped their years of bickering and flirting weren’t so one-sided after all.

“So am I walking you home, or do you want to walk me home?” Richie had a cute little spring in his step, bouncing enough for his curls to move while he walked.

“I have to go straight home otherwise my mom’ll throw a fit.”

“Then lead the way.” Richie bowed at the waist, one hand wrapped across his middle, the other outstretched toward him.

Eddie looked around, but the streets were empty. He took Richie’s hand, stuffing it in his pocket with his own to share warmth, and to conceal their hands from any other pedestrians.

They took the quickest route, huddled close to each other. They stopped outside Eddie’s house, at the door.

“I think you’re really brave, Rich.”

“Oh- uh- thank you?”

Eddie squeezed his hand, brushing Richie’s knuckles with his thumb.

In the streetlights, he could see Richie’s pink cheeks darken. The wind was cold that night, biting. A hint of the winter to come.

“I had a good time. Thanks for making my birthday really nice.”

“It was super lowkey,” Richie shrugged.

“But you made sure I wasn’t alone with my mom on my birthday. That means a lot.”

“Anything for you, Eds.” Richie withdrew his hand, tucking it back into his own pocket. He turned to leave but Eddie pulled on his flimsy jacket. It was dark, and his mom couldn’t see them on the porch from her chair in the living room. 

He leaned up, pressing a chaste kiss to his cold cheek. Richie shivered, a small smile on his face. 

“Make sure you save one of those for Mrs. K.” Richie’s voice cracked, betraying him.

“No, I think I’ll just save the next one for you.”

Richie’s eyes grew impossibly wider behind his glasses.

“Goodnight Rich.”

“Yeah,” Richie swallowed. “Night.”

He watched Richie walk down the street, into the snowy dark.

His house was much warmer than the late autumn night, but he didn’t feel it. He was already burning inside, like a tiny fire roared within him suddenly, when before he’d felt more like a match that could be easily sniffed out. 

The last month he’d built his confidence of timber and kindling, and now he had set it alight. He was always afraid of being doused or of destroying everything in his path, but right now, he proved he could live between the extremes. Instead of being weak or overbearing, he was warmth, protection, shelter. He knew that he was strong and brave, proving so to himself & to his friends, to Richie. He’d built himself up on his own, but he wasn’t alone.

“Edward, you’re late.”

“Sorry, ma. Lost track of time. My watch broke.”

“When did that happen? That’s very irresponsible of you!”

“The other day. I dropped it.” He lied. He’d actually been thrown against a wall and it had smashed on his wrist. After killing the monster, he’d gone home and spent nearly an hour picking the shards out in the bathroom. None of the wounds were serious, and he was more concerned about the bruises than the tiny cuts.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Did it break? You didn’t try to clean it up yourself, did you?”

“It didn’t break, I didn’t even notice it had stopped working at first. I threw it out last night and I forgot to tell you. Sorry, ma.”

“Well, we’ll have to go get you a new one. Maybe a Christmas gift.”

“That sounds nice. Thank you.” 

"You said you went to see a movie. It wasn't that one with Robin Williams, was it? He dresses up like a woman. They shouldn't put crossdressers in movies."

"No, I didn't see that one."

"Good. That Hanscom boy is very sweet. Arlene's a good woman, like me. Raising a little boy on her own. She even got him to slim down. He looks much nicer now."

"Yeah. Ben's a good friend."

"And it was _just Ben?"_

"Yeah. Just Ben." The lies poured out of him easily.

"Good."

Eddie started to head to his bedroom.

“You’re forgetting something, sweetie.”

Eddie sighed, out of her line of sight. He straightened his posture, putting on a brave face and walking over to her chair. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her cheek. So different than the one he’d given Richie; this felt obligatory and forced, while the other had felt like a choice, a happy one.

“Such a good boy, goodnight Eddie-bear.”

“Night Ma.” 

He dragged himself to his room, crossing the day off on his calendar. Then flopped down on his bed. The high from before completely diminished. He pushed down what his mother made him feel, trying to cling to the strength and happiness he’d shared with Richie _ . _


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for physical bullying of richie in wolf form, and implied use of antisemitic slurs toward a jewish character, no actual slurs are stated.

**Richie**

Eddie had kissed his cheek, an affectionate press of his lips to Richie’s face. He’d panicked, the overwhelming emotions causing his body to shift without his permission. He’d shoved his hands in his pockets, nearly shredding the fabric from the inside. He barely opened his mouth to speak, his fangs prominent and causing his words to slur. Thankfully, Eddie didn’t notice, or at least hadn’t brought it up. 

Eddie had been so bold, not just with the kiss, but his admissions to Richie about his feelings. 

He’d stayed up late that night, going over his conversation with Eddie over and over in his head. Eddie thought he was trying to come out, and instead of rejecting him, he’d come out too. Eddie’s gay. He’s gay and he knows Richie is too.

His skin felt tight, like he was trying to escape his own body. In a way, he was. The wolf inside of him wanted out. Control was nearly impossible, he was functioning solely through impulse, which wasn’t terribly different from how he normally was, but he wouldn’t have tried to tell Eddie that he was a werewolf, or that he was gay, if it weren’t for the way Eddie made him feel, and how he could tell partly what Eddie felt with his heightened senses.

Every time he tried to understand what had happened that night, a new question popped into his head. His thoughts were scrambled, he was chasing them, trying to catch any of them, but they all slipped away, leaving him frustrated and confused.

**November 29th, 1993**

At two, he got out of bed and started running the shower. He left it cold, sitting inside the tub. He focused on the feeling of the water rushing through his hair, over his shoulders and down his back, around his thighs and feet. For the first time in days, he felt calm.

His mind was blank, just letting the water rush over him. He was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Richie? You’ve been in there a while. Are you feeling alright? You aren’t sick, are you?”

“I’m okay, I just couldn’t fall asleep. I’m getting out now.”

“Oh. Alright, honey.” He listened to her walk back to bed, the springs creaking as she settled onto the mattress.

He shut off the water, toweling himself dry. In the mirror, he looked off. His features were different, his eyes looked wild.

His body was changing against his will, for the second time in his life. At least he had more control over the problem this time, and it would only last until tomorrow morning.

He scrubbed at his face, exhausted but not tired. He went back to bed, laying in the dark for the rest of the night. The moon was bright, illuminating his room ominously, the shadows sticking out more than usual, terrifying in a way he hadn’t felt since he was a young child.

When he finally fell asleep, it was not restful, filled with dreams of his loved ones’ blood coating him.

He woke up late in the morning, his blankets ripped off of him.

“Oh, what the fuck!” That was Stan’s voice.

He shivered, curling his body inward. It took a moment, but he realized he was still naked.

He opened his eyes, searching his room for Stan. He was by the door, still gripping his comforter but turned away, facing the wall.

“You can’t barge into a man’s room and expect he’ll always be decent.” He mumbled, stretching. His spine cracked far more than usual, unpleasant instead of satisfying.

“Holy shit.” Stan was disgusted by the sound.

“Yeah, my body really doesn’t wanna be human. Sorry?” He got up, plucking a shirt from the floor. It was still mostly clean, and after waving it in the air for a moment, the wrinkles became less prominent. He did the same with the rest of his clothes.

“Oh. Don’t apologize for that. I was planning to suggest you see a doctor about it, but- nevermind.”

“I’m decent.” He joined Stan at the door.

Richie threw together a large breakfast, trying to satisfy his seemingly unending hunger.

Stan waited patiently, chatting with Richie’s parents in the living room.

“We should go now.” Stan’s voice was neutral, but he looked at Richie pointedly.

They said their goodbyes to Richie’s parents. Stan had parked in the driveway.

“I have everything already, what do you want to do?”

“We should just go straight to the woods. I could barely control myself last night, I don’t want to risk it.”

“Fine by me.” Stan pulled out, driving away from town. It was only a five minute drive, and with Richie’s strength, they were able to carry their supplies out to the clubhouse in one trip.

Setting up didn’t take long, since they had everything left down there that they’d used last time. 

Richie took off into the woods, slowed down to let Stan trail behind at a jog. The chilly wind felt calming against his hot skin, and he quickly found himself at the quarry’s cliff.

The steep drop didn’t intimidate him anymore, but the near-frozen water did. Ice hadn’t formed yet, but it could still make a person hypothermic in minutes. But he wasn’t a normal person, and he felt feverish in his skin. He dove in, hearing Stan shout for him before he was submerged.

His skin reacted, rising in goose bumps to trap his heat. He let himself float below the surface for just a moment, reveling in the quiet of the water around him. It was almost eerily silent to his normal, tuning out all the sounds he could hear. Now he was only able to focus on the rush of bubbles around him.

He took a deep, gasping breath, his lungs burning from the chilled air.

“Richie! What the fuck!”

“I needed to cool off. I’m too hot.”

Stan backed away from the cliff edge. Richie could hear him trudge through the shrubbery lining the steep hill, down to where the quarry opened up.

The chill of the water was starting to get to him, but he didn’t want to get out yet. He ripped off his clothes, tossing them toward the bank. They were weighing him down anyways.

He shifted, drifting closer to where Stan would emerge from the treeline.

He doggy paddled over to Stan, who raised an eyebrow. He awkwardly climbed out of the water, padding over.

Stan shook his head. “No, no don’t you fucking dare.”

Richie grinned, shaking his entire body vigorously.

“You fucking reek. Asshole.”

Richie wagged his tail, still grinning

“Seriously. Fucked up.” Stan turned away, leaving to sit away from the water.

Richie followed. He let his ears fall, tucked his tail in, and raised his eyes to look at Stan’s. Literal puppy eyes.

“Don’t do that to me. It’s cute when dogs do it because they actually feel guilty. You’re just trying to make me feel bad.” Stan tried to avert his gaze, but ultimately gave in. “You know I can’t stay mad at you when you do that. Fuck!” Stan reached down, patting Richie’s head.

His tail wagged happily, outside of his control. Something caught his eye, and he ran to chase it.

“Stop terrorizing that poor squirrel!”

The critter lept up into the tree, far above where Richie could reach, even on his hind legs. He watched it run off, quickly disappearing.

He shrugged it off, going back over to Stan, who was eyeing him curiously, with his arms concealed behind his back.

He cocked his head.  _ What are you doing? _

Stan presented a large stick, tossing it several feet behind Richie. He sprinted for it, bringing it back to Stan’s waiting hand.

Some part of him questioned it, almost felt humiliated. While the rest excitedly embraced the simple pleasure of chasing and bringing back an object for a friend. 

Stan threw it again, much farther this time. He caught it, pride swelled in his chest. He’d never caught a ball in little league or a dodgeball in gym, but now he could.

They continued for a while, until Richie didn’t bring the stick back to Stan, laying down to gnaw off the bark.

Stan sat next to him, observing the trees. The quiet would help attract birds, and Richie could listen for them, maybe even at point one to Stan with his snout.

The wind was cold, and the sunlight wasn’t helping much to dry him off or warm him up.

He climbed the hill, laying on the bare earth in direct sunlight. There were fewer clouds out, but the sun felt cold, distant.

He thought of all the sunbathing they’d done up here, summers spent drying off in the scorching heat, their clothes thrown around in the dirt. The first time they swam together, all the others had thrown off their shirts, Bev the first to take the plunge. They’d all tumbled in after her, except Richie, who could not bring himself to the same level of undress.

He hadn’t swam that day, sadly watching them all splash and jump and play in the cool water. The next time they went, only days later, Eddie went first, staying in his clothes, even though he could get in trouble for even being near the quarry, let alone swim in it.

Richie quickly followed him, overwhelmed with a bubbling warmth in his chest, to take the attention off him.

Ben had still curiously asked why Richie hadn’t joined them the first day, or why he wore clothes into the water. Eddie overheard, and waded over, grumbling out a short  _ None of your business. _ and that was it.

He’d fallen asleep, noticing the sun was far lower in the sky. He’d woke to a fetid smell that had permeated through the forest, a smell he was uncomfortably familiar with. It trailed Henry, and anyone who associated with him. The boys who followed him around certainly weren’t considered his friends, just allies for the purpose of gaining and maintaining power.

He heard yelling, and Stan’s voice rang out clearly through it. He shot up, racing down to find his friend.

He heard slurs thrown at Stan, some of the worst he knew, and far more he didn’t.

He ended up behind the group, facing Stan’s blank expression. His body stood rigid and tall. He didn’t look like it, but Richie could feel his fear.

He could barely think, his mind taken over with rage.

He can see Stan gesture for him to stop, but he doesn’t pay attention to it. Stan’s fear mixed in with someone else’s, and he realized he’d been spotted.

“Hey, wait a minute, man.”

“Shut the fuck up!”

“No, Henry, there’s a fuckin’ dog. It’s huge.”

“I don’t give a shit.”

The other two were curious though, and they both looked to where Belch was gesturing.

“That’s a wolf.”

“What?” That caught Henry’s attention, turning to address the interruption. “Wolf, dog, coyote, I don’t care. Just get the freaky mutt out of here.”

Vic started to move forward, but Patrick held him back.

“He said to get rid of it.”

“It’s got rabies.”

“How would you know that?”

“Because it’s in front of people? In the day? This thing could kill us.”

“You want me to be scared of a dog?”

“No-”

Henry approached, kicking Richie in the ribs, hard enough to knock him to the ground.

He wanted to get up, to tear them all apart for the things they’d said to Stan. What they’d done to Bev and Mike and Ben and Eddie and Bill for years.

He could see the fear on Stan’s face though. Fear of them getting physically hurt, or of Richie killing them all without control. So he stayed down, focusing on the pain, healing.

He heard Henry call him a demon-mutt, insinuating something about Stan summoning him. His ears twitched, he didn’t want to hear it, tuning them out as they walked away.

Stan stood very still for a while, watching the treeline where they had disappeared.

He finally sighed, his head and shoulders dropping. He ran to Richie, who was still trying to get himself under control again.

Stan felt around his chest, where Henry had kicked, finding a rib still out of place.

“May I?”

He nodded, bracing himself. Stan set the bone quickly. If it wasn’t back in place, Richie would soon know if it healed incorrectly.

“Can you walk?” He slowly got up, limping slightly.

Stan gathered up his clothes, still damp, and nearly frozen in shape.

They slowly headed back to the clubhouse, reaching it as the sun began to set. Stan picked up Richie’s front, half-carrying half-walking Richie down the ladder. He collapsed on the ground, chest heaving.

He tried to shift back, but found his body wouldn’t fully cooperate.

“Stan.” His voice came out warped.

“What’s up?”

“Ya gotta tie me up. Now.”

“What? You said you didn’t turn until the moon was already halfway through the sky.”

“Not tonight.”

“Okay, okay. Fuck!” Stan rushed around the room, getting the restraints tied to Richie, who dragged himself closer to the pole.

His vision began to blur, he could hear Stan talking, but he couldn’t understand what he was saying. The pain in his chest worsened, amplified by the forced transformation.

The last thing he heard before he blacked out was a scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating last week, I was moving! I'm settled into my place for the semester, and just got confirmation that I do not have Covid, so I'm set to attend classes in person!
> 
> My classes come first, so if I don't update, it's because I'm studying! I want to keep this updated relatively consistently, and it takes me several hours to write each chapter, so spread out in my down time, writing this is feasible, but not a guarantee. I hope yall bear with me having a potentially inconsistent update schedule, since the story is really starting to pick up in both the romance and angst.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! One year since I started posting, and over thirteen months of this AU existing in my mind. It's pretty slow going, and this chapter's a bit short, but I've been trying to focus as much on schoolwork as possible.
> 
> I care so deeply about this story, about continuing and completing it. I'd like to finish it before another year passes. I'm not going to stick to a weekly schedule, instead updating whenever I complete a chapter.
> 
> Thank you for your patience with me, I'm so glad that people are still reading this and leaving kudos, even after ending on a bit of a cliffhanger for two months.

**Richie**

**November 30th, 1993**

He woke up panicked, thrashing wildly. 

He was trapped. He could barely move. It was warm, and he was enveloped in something… soft?

He calmed down, realizing he was tucked into a thick blanket. He was still in the clubhouse, tattered rope and chunks of wood covered the floor. Sunlight peeked through the slats in the trapdoor, giving the dim room a warm glow. It almost felt _too_ peaceful, like the calm after a storm.

“Stan? Stan!” He stood on wobbly legs, trying to find his friend.

A groan came from below him, beneath the blanket.

“Stan?” He whispered.

“Right here.” He flipped the blanket off his face, revealing rumpled hair and bloodshot eyes.

“What happened last night?”

“You freaked out. You ripped apart all your restraints, thanks for the waste of a hundred dollars.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“We didn’t know you’d change into a different form on the full moon.”

“I did what?”

“Yeah, you look more wolfman than wolf. You were all hairy and shit, but up on your hind legs. You didn’t act any different, you were just in pain and being held in place the way you were was exacerbating your injuries. When you got out, I thought you were gonna take off, but you just laid down and licked your wounds.”

“Literally?”

“And metaphorically. You just kinda cried all night, gave me big puppy eyes until I gave you food and pet you.”

“Oh.” He blushed, embarrassed that he was more like a domesticated puppy than a feral wolf. “So, no urge to kill or maim townspeople?”

“Not at all, you were a very good boy.” Stan smirked. 

“That’s fucking weird, don’t say that!” He crossed his arms, suddenly aware of his bare chest.

“You can dish it out, but you can’t handle it when it comes back to you? For shame, Trashmouth.”

“Shut up! Can we just eat? I’m starving.”

“Sure. We have to get home soon, though. Class starts in-” He checked his watch. “Three hours.”

“Right.” 

Stan pulled out supplies from a duffle bag, throwing a sweater and jeans in Richie’s general direction. He turned completely away, letting Richie change. He shimmied into the denim, thinking about the shower he’d need to get the dirt and blood off his skin.

Stan cleared his throat, holding out his glasses and a tupperware container with homemade breakfast.

It was cold, but still tasted fantastic.

They ate in silence for a while, listening to the wind whip through the trees.

“How’d you know they were there?”

“Huh?” Richie asked around a mouthful of cold, dry waffle.

“Bowers and his shithead friends. You were all the way at the top of the hill.”

“I smelt them.”

“You... smelt them?”

“They reek. With you guys, I  _ could _ find you from a mile away, but only if I focus. It’s too overwhelming to try to keep track of everyone all the time. But I can sense them over everything else, and it’s not BO or from being- I dunno, dirty? They smell  _ bad.  _ Like they’re rotting.”

“Mm.”

They were silent for the rest of their meal, packing up quickly and tying up their shoes. They carried everything back out to the car, making sure they left minimal evidence behind.

“That went far better than either of us anticipated.”

“Yeah, but… do you think you could still monitor me? Just in case?”

“Of course, Richie.” He slung an arm over Richie’s shoulder, leaning in for a side-hug.

“Thanks, Man-Stan.”

He pulled away, groaning at the bastardization of his treasured nickname.

“Stan-Man, Stan-I-Am, Stan-I-love-green-eggs-and-ham.”

He laughed, gently shoving Richie’s shoulder. They packed up the car, efficiently stacking the bags of destroyed rope and tupperware containers. Richie spotted an opened bag of dog treats.

“The fuck are those for?”

“In case I needed to incentivise you to stay.”

“Why did you open them?”

“Because you found them and wouldn’t leave me alone until I gave you some.”

“I’m a traitor to myself.” He got in the passenger seat, watching Stan slam the back door shut through the rear-view mirror. In the front, he started the ignition, pulling onto the road.

“They’re bacon-flavored, if that helps at all?” 

“No, Stan, it doesn’t help. Because you fed me dog-treats. Did you have me sit and shake and play dead too?”

“No?”

“Stan!”

“You were doing a very good job at listening. It was unlike you and I thought it was funny. I’m sorry.” He looked over at Richie. “Do you genuinely not remember anything?”

“No, I-… I dunno.” He thought for a moment. “I was in a lot of pain, I heard you scream, and then I blacked out.”

“What? I didn’t scream, you screamed.”

“Oh, okay,  _ I  _ screamed and then I blacked out. I- I think I remember feeling scared? And later, almost happy, maybe content?”

“That’s sweet. I won't do that again though, if you don't really remember anything."

"Thanks"

Stan paused. " It was a little weird, though.”

“What?”

“You were so humanoid, but you were acting like a puppy. It just, didn’t line up, your appearance to your behavior. If you’d looked like a wolf-dog and acted like that? Okay. Or if you looked the way you did last night and acted vicious? Scary, but... it’s what I would’ve expected from that form.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“Nah, it’s way more reassuring knowing that all of you aren’t out there trying to hurt anyone because you’re too busy playing fetch and chasing your tails.”

“I mean, we don’t really know that. What if I’m the exception, or what if last night was a weird fluke? Years of werewolf myth says we’re mindless killers on full moon nights, but maybe it was just because I was hurt, or you were there." He used a nasally voice. "One trial is not enough for a confirmed hypothesis. Scientific method, Stanley.”

“Whatever smartass. Just don’t kill me next month and we’ll be good.”

"Can do." He smiled toward his best friend.

Stan flitted his eyes from the road to look at Richie, his lips quirking up into a gentle smile. He reached over and patted Richie's shoulder, a masculine affection.

_For once, things are going right for me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news for my life :) I'm doing fantastic this semester, and I go home in just over two weeks. Next summer I have my internship: twelve consecutive weeks working in a funeral home for the first time.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for violence, blood, mention of parental death, vague allusion to Sonia's abuse

**Eddie**  
**December 3rd, 1993**  
He’d collected up all his savings, going to Radio Shack on Tuesday and purchasing equipment for a police scanner. He placed it under his bed, listening to it while completing homework, and in the late hours of the night, between his nightmares. There wasn’t much to listen to, but he was slowly learning the codes.  
The previous night, before falling asleep, he’d overheard there was a murder-suicide just outside of town. No one said anything yesterday, but his peers would probably be talking about it by the afternoon.  
It was at lunch that he noticed the first whispers, and just before seventh period, he overheard a girl in the front row talking to her boyfriend.  
“Yeah, it was my neighbors. Mr. and Mrs. Miller. He shot her, and then himself. I heard the gunshots. The police came, like, an hour later. It was crazy.”  
Eddie knew the Millers. They were an older couple, both retired. They attended the same church as him, and had always seemed so happy, unlike other older couples. It didn’t make sense.  
Class dragged on. He started nodding off, unable to pay attention anymore. He startled awake after everyone had already left, including the teacher. He could see his friends waiting in the nearly empty parking lot, standing around their cars. They were laughing, talking loud enough for Eddie to hear their muffled voices. Richie’s carried the loudest, talking with his hands and laughing the most.  
He sat for a moment, just watching. The sun was already sitting low in the sky, the rays casting beautifully over his friends.  
Someone started walking past the school.  
It was Mr. Miller.  
Eddie blinked several times, but he was still there, walking fast, without his cane, undeniably alive.  
“What the fuck…” He stood, grabbing his backpack and sprinting through the school. He burst out the front doors, but his friends were gone. So too was Mr. Miller. “No, No! Shit!”  
He jumped down the stairs, fumbling with the lock for his bike. He yanked it off, stuffing it in his backpack.  
He rode his bike around the perimeter of the school, then further out into the neighborhoods and town. The man had disappeared.  
_You’re just seeing things. Everyone left without you because you haven’t been joining them. It’s fine, everything’s fine._ He told himself, riding down the country roads. The diner came into sight, the sign’s dim light was comforting.  
He chained his bike up on the rack at the side of the building, walking around to the front. He could see his friends squished into one booth from the window. They were all sipping on drinks and chatting.  
On the end, next to Richie, was himself. He ducked away from the window, confused. His heart raced. How am I already in there?  
The double was wearing different clothes from him. Clothes he didn’t recognize as his own.  
He couldn’t go inside. That would be far too confusing for everyone and himself. He went back to his bike, sitting on the gravel and leaning against the wall. He’d wait it out and follow them after.  
An hour passed, but his stomach protested. He thought of all the unhealthy but delicious food his friends were in the middle of eating. The milkshake Bev would share with Ben, the burger Richie would order, and the fries he’d normally steal off his plate.  
It was almost dark out when he finally heard his friends exit the building.  
“Oh my God, Richie, that’s disgusting!” He heard his own voice smiling through the statement. He carefully watched everyone get in their cars. Bev, Ben, and Mike all got in with Bill, while Richie and his double went with Stan.  
As soon as they pulled out, he followed, pedaling as fast as possible back to Richie’s house. He sped around the corner, watching Stan’s car pull out of the driveway. He could see Richie and himself in the front yard, walking to the back.  
He took the other side, peeking around the corner. The two were sitting on the porch in the Tozier’s uncomfortable wicker chairs, their backs turned to him.  
“I need to talk to you, about stuff.”  
“Okay?”  
“You’ve just been… different lately.”  
A pause.  
“Not bad different! Just- you seem more confident, and stronger! But, tired… and sad.”  
“Oh.”  
“I know I’ve been weird too! I’m not judging, I only wanted to let you know, in case you didn’t?”  
“Okay.”  
Richie was silent for a long moment, his eyes flitting over the other Eddie’s face.  
He wanted to get closer, to hear both of them better. A leaf crunched under his foot.  
“Sh! Did you hear that?”  
“Uh… yeah. Hey! Is someone there?” Richie called out.  
He panicked, running to the end of the street. He caught his breath, his heart beat slowly calming.  
He waited, watching and listening, but nothing happened. The light in Richie’s bedroom turned on, then back off a minute later. Still no sign of his doppelganger.  
He hesitated, unsure what to do next. He should be home by now, his mother would start panicking.  
He had to leave.  
He started walking his bike, it took only a minute to get home if he took a shortcut through some backyards.  
“Eddie! Eddie, hey!” He heard Richie’s voice, calling for him. Sneakers slammed on the sidewalk. The path was narrow, between the fences of two houses. He could barely fit standing next to his bike.  
“Richie?” It was too dark to see his front, but his shape was illuminated by the streetlights behind him, surrounding him in an orange glowy-haze.  
“You dropped something.”  
“I did?”  
Richie held out his hand, his fingers wrapped around a book. His father’s journal.  
“Oh. Thanks.” He took it, carefully placing it into his backpack, where it had been since he’d put it away before lunch. He couldn’t have just dropped it.  
He slung his backpack over his shoulder, shoving his hands in his pockets to check for his knife. Still there.  
“Not to be nosy but, what is it?”  
“It’s just… something from my dad. I’m trying to translate it.”  
“Mm. Cool. Glad you didn’t lose it, then.”  
“Yeah.”  
The conversation felt uncomfortable. The way Richie was speaking was unnatural. He’d seen Richie go to bed. This wasn’t Richie.  
“I really have to get home- my Mom.”  
“I’ll walk you.”  
“Okay.”  
The bike made it difficult to walk with each other, and eventually Eddie started pulling it behind him, putting more distance between himself and whatever was behind him.  
He gripped his knife harder.  
“Careful Eddie, don’t strain yourself there.”  
“Huh?”  
“You’re doing a terrible job. Didn’t your father teach you anything?”  
“What the fuck are you talking about?”  
“Your technique, it’s off. I was expecting some challenge going up against a Kaspbrak, but this is almost too easy.”  
He threw his bike back into the creature, whatever it was, trying to reach home.  
It quickly caught up, yanking him back and throwing him onto the ground.  
“Tsk. Bad move.” It’s voice had warped, no longer sounding like Richie, but a garbled mess he could barely understand.  
It morphed, appearing more monstrous, almost wolf-like, with huge claws. He rolled out of the way, slouching off his backpack and readying his knife.  
He had taken on several vampires, but they were fairly weak, just turned and unfed, as well as a handful of goblins, little tricksters that just messed with people for the fun of it. He’d even reasoned with a ghost that was haunting the appliance store downtown. But a shapeshifter, one with presumably years of experience and the ability to not only take on the appearance of people he knew and loved, but also animals and monsters? He was outmatched.  
“Oh, my little Eddie! Eddie-bear!” It changed again, taking the voice and appearance of his mother, but wrong.  
“You’re not my mother, and I’m not afraid of you.”  
“I don’t need you to be afraid-”  
He took that moment to strike, using the creature’s own distraction to his advantage. He plunged his knife into the abdomen, and it let out a shocked wail.  
“But- you-”  
It fell, and he towered over it.  
It's skin flashed through multiple shapes, unable to settle into one completely. Finally, it took the form of his father.  
“Trying to follow in Daddy’s footsteps? You’ll die long before you ever avenge him.”  
“What?”  
“Oh. You don’t know?”  
He carefully shook his head.  
“Oh no.” It tsked. “Poor, poor little Eddie.”  
“What the fuck are you talking about?” He stepped on its wound, and it howled in pain.  
“Curse- he was cursed.”  
“He died of cancer!”  
“A curse-” He stepped away, his mind reeling.  
“Who-” The time he’d taken was enough for it to gain back enough strength to swipe at him, leaving a gash along his abdomen.  
It had stood up, and was trying to hobble away. A new anger fueled him, and in moments, the creature was bleeding out onto the sidewalk.  
Hot tears dripped off his cheeks, but he couldn’t focus on anything until he knew it was dead.  
Finally, it stopped breathing, and its eyes glazed over. Feeling came back to his body, and he dropped the knife, which he had been gripping so tightly his hand cramped. Blood trickled out of the wound just below his chest. His shirt was already ruined, so he tore it up, wrapping the fabric around his midsection and tying tightly.  
The street was empty, but Neibolt was always empty, so at least no one saw either of them. There was still a body in front of him, taking the form of his deceased father. What would happen when the police try to identify the body? He had to make sure it would be unrecognizable.  
While he anxiously ran through different ideas, the body began to morph again. He eyed it, preparing himself to fight again, but the creature did not get up. Its skin was paper white, and it’s face had no features. The fingers had sharp nails and a tail.  
It had taken it’s true form.  
Immediately, it began to dissolve, turning into a goo.  
The fluid, though thick, began to absorb into the earth, beneath the snow.  
Soon, the only remaining evidence was the clothing it had worn. The same outfit that his double had worn earlier, as well as when he thought he’d seen Mr. Miller at the school. He left them, digging through his backpack for a spare shirt.  
He staggered home, exhausted, bleeding, his thoughts racing over his father’s death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back again! It's been a couple days but I got this idea and it started writing itself.


End file.
